


Paved with Silver Linings

by astroAntagonist



Category: Dress Up Time Princess (video game), Dress Up! Time Princess, Gotham Memoirs - Fandom
Genre: 1930s, Conspiracy, Corruption, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Human Trafficking, Investigations, Italian Mafia, Murder Mystery, New York City, Newspapers, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-26
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:27:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 22,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26655139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astroAntagonist/pseuds/astroAntagonist
Summary: Set in the mid 1930s, follow the story of Amelia Lynch, a young reporter struggling to make ends meet in New York City. While working on an unassuming case, she stumbles upon a web of conspiracy and corruption that she believes holds the truth behind her sister's murder. On her quest for answers she makes an unexpected friend but is their new bond strong enough to weather the danger they face ahead of them?Based on characters and story routes from the Gotham Memoirs book in the game Dress Up! Time Princess
Relationships: Amelia Lynch/Edmund Davis, Oc/Edmund Davis, Original Character/Edmund Davis
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	1. Off to the Races

_My name is Amelia Lynch._ “True.”

 _I am twenty-three years old._ “True.”

 _I live in Queens, New York._ “True.”

 _There was a crash._ “True.”

 _It was an accident._ “…False.”

She’d mastered it at this point, the technique we now call grounding. There wasn’t a name for it back then, but she didn’t need one. To Mia it was a lifeline. A script she wrote in her mind to perform through sleep laden mumbles. It was a tool to steady her when the nightmares shook her awake. They used to come more often but they were rarer now. A gift from time, she guessed. Regardless, she was thankful. Less nightmares welcomed better sleep. She’d been getting good rest today, too, before the terrors came. _Too_ good, apparently, because when the cloudiness in her eyes subsided, she got a clear look at the time. She’d more than overslept and yesterday’s promise of “I won’t be late tomorrow,” was already down the drain. The best she could do now was hope that today’s tardiness wouldn’t be record breaking.

The state of her room stalled her haste in getting dressed. It was a problem she seemed to face daily. Mia described herself as an “organised mess,” but that’s only half true. Back home she’d had the space for her “organization method” but now she lived in an apartment the size of a shoe box. There was barely space for her desk and bed here, let alone clutter. City apartments didn’t get much bigger in her budget -- her only other options were just bigger shoe boxes with different views. She hurriedly rummaged through the stacks of scribbled notes and potbellied files sprawled on her desk in search of her work folder. Mia promised herself to get that spring cleaning done this weekend. But she was lying to herself - it was already Fall - but it felt earnest in the moment.

Lucky for Mia, when she arrived at the _Sun News_ ’ offices, she was only about 5 minutes late. Even luckier, the door to her boss’s office was shut. There was a good chance he hadn’t noticed her brief absence or late arrival. The smallest of smiles threatened to creep up her lips as she sat down at her desk. She took joy in the little victories. It kept her sane working in a place like this. She hadn’t been interning there for long, but the weight of the office atmosphere dragged on everyone eventually. Everyone she worked with was either a pompous asshat or a mindless drone. The articles the _Sun News_ put out were either fluff or could pass as it. Adding insult to injury, the men were pigs. Mia had caught them, several times, eyeing up the secretary like hungry wolves watching a wounded deer. It was disgusting and she had no doubt they did the same to her when she wasn’t looking. She didn’t like working for _Sun News_ , but it was still a job. For women, experience in the field was hard to come by. The job gave inside resources and a nice cover for her side project. Overall, she shouldn’t really complain, though she wanted to some days.

Normally, Mia’s to-do bin was full, stacked high with articles by the usual culprits: senior reporters who took sick pleasure in overloading the interns with tedious editing. She disliked doing edits. She was a reporter, not an editor, and scanning her colleague’s work for spelling errors was a waste of her talent. She only made it halfway through her initial proofread of the first paper when the chief emerged from his cave. When his office door swung open, the whole room tensed. The short, cherry-faced, portly man who appeared was their Medusa. No one dared to meet his eyes. With the way he squinted around the room you’d think he ought to be wearing glasses. His vision wasn’t actually impaired, but he did suffer from a severe case of stink eye. The man could never scan a room without unnerving the crowd. Mia wondered if his face ever relaxed, she wouldn’t find it hard to believe if he was born like that. The room waited with bated breath, ready for whatever it was he was preparing to bark at them.. The only person who hadn’t tensed up was Mia, once more cementing her out of place nature. She hadn’t even looked up from her work. When the chief’s squinted gaze landed on her, the anticipated orders finally came to break the silence.

“Rivers, Johnson, Taylor, Lynch. My office.”

Having made his demands, Martin returned to his office, slamming the door behind him. The other three interns all flinched at this. Mia found their trembling cowardice pathetic. Those three had _months_ on her here and they still couldn’t figure out that the slamming of the door was just how the chief was. Angry, happy, sad, whatever he felt -- he’d take it out on that door. No use worrying about it.

As it often went, Mia was first to enter Martin’s office, the three nitwits dragging their feet behind her. Mia knew not to take a seat. The chairs here weren’t for her, they were for the men, _if you could call them that._ Instead she positioned herself to lean against the wall she normally occupied while waiting for the rats to settle in their cages. She didn’t expect much from this meeting. Martin would often gather the interns to give them all a review of their recent work. This often left Mia out as she was rarely given the approval to write her own articles. But when she was allowed a chance to write something, it was more tabloid drivel, to which Martin would rarely comment on other than to say it was “boring,” or “unimpressive.”

To the group’s surprise, the meeting wasn’t another periodic review at all. It was “scraps.” Scraps were the tips turned down by the more senior reporters and left to whatever intern wanted to investigate them. This time, it was a claim that the city-funded mental institution, Metropolitan Hospital, was potentially hiding some dark secrets. The mention of scraps lit up Mia’s eyes like Christmas lights, but the other three had a very different reaction. Normally, all four of them were eager for scraps. The boys would fight over who actually got the tip and Mia was left empty handed. This time, though, fear collected in the eyes of the three men at the mention of the hospital. Each sunk into their seats, sweat beading around their collars as they racked their brains for an excuse to get out of taking on the investigation.

 _What a bunch of half-baked, pansies._ Mia thought as she gave her colleagues a disappointed look.

“What’s wrong with you boys? You’re normally chomping at the bit for this kind of crap. What happened? Cat got your tongues?” Martin pressed the silent group, also clearly disappointed in them.

He scoffed and threw his hands up -- to no response. He was shaking his head when his eyes again landed on Mia. There was a quick and subtle flash of surprise behind them as if he’d forgotten she was still there. He unenthusiastically addressed her, “Well I guess that makes the tip yours, Lynch. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I’ll do my best, sir. Thank you for the opportunity,” Mia responded, doing all that she could to conceal the excitement she felt to be writing about something other than fashion trends or celebrity gossip.

With a grunt and a wave of his hand, the chief excused them from his office. The three boys quickly scattered like the terrified rodents they were, while Mia headed back to her desk to drum up a game plan.

Even though Mia had never been lucky enough to get scraps before, she knew they came with a deadline. It was never explicitly stated, but there was a known rule that scrap tips were expected to be fully investigated with an article ready for review by closing, the next day. There were few rare instances where Rivers had gotten away with a day and a half, but Mia had the impression she wouldn’t be granted that same courtesy. No, she knew that to get this done right there was a need to be deliberate with her actions and efficient with her time. 

She started where any good reporter would, with research. Being knowledgeable about your target always made things go smoother; considering she was working against a fast ticking timer, any opportunity to avoid potential missteps was essential. After jotting down her plan of action on her pocket-size steno pad, she gathered up her things and stuffed herself into the ever-packed elevator. Her destination was the records office on the building’s 17th floor. A sign on the check-in sheet and a flash of her employee ID got her buzzed through to the file room by the department’s receptionist. Once inside, she scoured the place for any media mentioning Metropolitan Hospital. There wasn’t much. Stuffing her findings into her messenger bag, she thanked the receptionist and climbed back aboard the lift. On the ground floor and out the front doors, she hailed a taxi, instructing the driver to take her to Queen’s Public Library on Silkman Ave.

Along the ride, she flipped through everything she’d gathered at the office -- occasionally looking up to turn her focus to the window. She did this partly to help quell the motion sickness she sometimes got from reading in cars. But primarily it was so she could take note of her location. Anytime she took a cab, Mia made sure to give the driver both a destination and a route. The window-watching was her way of ensuring they didn’t go off-course. Mia was young, but far from naïve. The day she let some two-bit cabbie take her down a low-lit back alley would be the day hell freezes over. Even if it were just to con her into a longer ride, it wasn’t something she was willing to risk.

Thankfully, this trip was uneventful, and she made it to her destination in good time. The library, much like the office, had little to offer. The sum of everything she’d pulled, was this: Metropolitan Hospital was a city-funded institution that primarily treated individuals with severe mental conditions. The city’s budget didn’t allow for much funding to be provided to the hospital, so it mostly relied on charities to keep afloat. There was barely any mention of what organizations supported the hospital but there were a couple articles that mentioned some local schools adding Metropolitan to their lists of places where students could earn volunteer hours. After cleaning up the table she’d been occupying and writing her findings on her steno pad, Mia felt she’d gathered enough for a plan of attack. She walked the short distance back to her apartment in a hurry. It was the last stop she needed to make before actually heading to the hospital.

Once she arrived, she threw her bag down on her bed and stripped off her work clothes. She cursed herself for not cleaning up sooner, this mess was only slowing her down. She dressed herself in a mustard colored, loose fitting, boat-neck sweater, cropped at her hips, and a dark grey, A-line, midi skirt. Paired with this she popped on an old pair of black and white saddle shoes and some grey and black argyle socks. As a finishing touch, she searched through her desk’s drawers for her tin of cream rouge and dabbed a conservative amount on the apples of her cheeks, gently rubbing it in to blend. Mia only really wore makeup on special occasions, so she wasn’t too familiar with the current trends but that didn’t matter. The point of the blush was to highlight the natural pinkness she had to her skin -- to make her appear younger. She gave herself a once over in the mirror and smiled, satisfied with her look. From its place in her closet, she then took out her typewriter and set it on her desk. She had one last thing to do before heading off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-1 in Gotham Memoirs


	2. Hospital, or Hell on Earth?

With the addition of a few notebooks, when Mia arrived at the hospital, she was a dead ringer for a high school student. That was the plan of course, and when she approached the receptionist with the sign off sheet she’d just typed out, asking about volunteer hours, the woman seemed none-the-wiser. She informed Mia that they didn’t get many volunteers so there were no plans for today. The tone in her voice suggested she was considering turning Mia away, so she quickly piped up.

“Oh, that’s okay! I don’t need to do much. I could just read some books to the patients or-or help tidy up some of the rooms!” When she spoke, she dressed her voice in cheery innocence and flashed her most pleading eyes.

Perhaps the receptionist was feeling generous, or maybe it was just luck, but with a small sigh she passed Mia back her sheet along with a button that read “Student Volunteer” in large, bold print. Mia pinned it to her shirt as the woman called over a middle-aged nurse wearing a stern expression. “This is Nurse Linda. You’re gonna follow her for an hour or two while she does her rounds. If you’re good and you do as she says, she’ll sign off on your hours before you go home.”

Mia nods her head with genuine excitement. Nurse Linda rolls her eyes and motions for Mia to follow, which she eagerly does. Taking the opportunity of being behind her keeper and thus out of view, Mia jots down some notes about the hospital’s dreary and weathered interior. The two walk through the dark, aged, and gloomy halls until they reach a set of double doors. On the wall next to them is a faded sign marking that this is the entrance to Block A.

“So how long have you worked here Nurse Linda?” She questions, continuing her innocent, peppy tone.

“A while.” The older woman’s tone is much harsher and raspier.

“Do- you _like_ working here?” Mia presses on carefully.

To this Nurse Linda turns and eyes up her junior suspiciously. Mia clutches her books to her chest and swallows her nerves, tilting her head with the quizzical eyes of a young puppy. The older woman sighs with a small shake of her head. “Cut the questions all right. You’re here to volunteer, not conduct interviews, right?”

The question gives Mia a slight chill and she feels a small bit of sweat form on the back of her neck. Still, she keeps her composure and gives an affirming nod, followed by a “Yes ma’am,” for good measure.

This seems to satisfy the nurse as she again motions for Mia to follow. Together they patrol the halls of Block A. Every few rooms, Linda would stop in front of a door and peer through the window in the center of it. Most of the time this was all she’d do before glancing at the patient’s chart that hung on the wall, right under the placard displaying the room number, then moving on to the next. When she saw a patient acting in a way that displeased her, the nurse would bang on the door’s window twice, sometimes throwing in a “straighten up,” before moving on. There wasn’t much time during stops for Mia to examine the patient or room herself, but she caught a few glimpses. The walls, floors, sheets, and curtains were all the same muted grey. The patients were all in varying levels of disarray with unbrushed hair and dirty gowns. Many of them chained to their bed frames or strapped to chairs.

_God these poor souls. It’s run worse than a damn prison here._ A myriad of other thoughts raced through Mia’s mind as they continued on. She’d write down notes whenever the chance would arise, taking care to check for wandering eyes before doing so. While simmering in thoughts of sympathy and disgust, Mia was suddenly shocked back to her senses.

She’d been grabbed on both arms by a tall, frail woman with long, unruly, black hair and a pair of deep set, brown eyes that were filled with panic. Mia looked her up and down and caught that the woman’s lips were moving but the shock of the moment had deafened her. It took a second for her hearing to filter back in and the woman’s ramblings to register.

“Listen, please! _Please_ listen! You have to help me- I- I can’t stay here anymore! They’re going to hurt me- they _always_ hurt me! I have to get home, _please!_ ” She spoke quickly, her voice shaky and breathing labored. She emphasized each statement by shaking the girl in her grip.

“I- I- I don’t-,” Mia stammered over her words, shaking her head slightly and tensing her shoulders. She wanted to help the woman but was too startled and fearful to give any comfort.

Before she could work out a response, Nurse Linda, having noticed the emptiness behind her, came striding back over to them. “Hey!” she snarled loudly, catching both women’s attention. “Get your hands off that girl!” The frail woman snapped her arms back to her sides at lightning speed, her height diminishing as she shrunk with fear. “What is your room number?” Nurse Linda demanded, now directly beside Mia.

“It- Its 108, ma’am,” she squeaked.

The nurse groaned in annoyance. “For God’s sake- That’s all the way down the other freakin’ hall.” While turning her head in the room’s direction her eyes landed back on Mia. “Listen, kid, you want something to do? Go take this quack back to 108. Its down that side hall there. Meet me back here when you’re done and not a second after.”

Mia and the patient both nodded as Nurse Linda walked back the way she came, presumably to finish her check-ins. Glancing down the hall and then back at the patient, Mia took a deep breath. Gently, she placed her arm on the small of the woman’s back to guide her, then lightly took hold of her arm to keep her steady. Together they walked down the hall slowly, both of them silent, and fear still clutching the patient’s gaze.

After a moment of consideration Mia whispered to the woman, “I want you to know I’m not really a schoolgirl. I’m a reporter. I’m secretly here to investigate the hospital. I promise I’m going to tell people what they do to you here. I think then-… then it might change.”

Her words seem to calm the woman as her ghostly gaze starts to show a glimmer of hope. A small smile weakly tugs at the corners of her lips. “You think so?” She asks with eyes that threatened tears.

With a reassuring smile, Mia nods in response. “I do.” It was more like _I hope_ but she couldn’t bring herself to sow doubt in the poor woman.

They were then interrupted again when a man a few feet ahead called out to them. “Stella!” His voice echoed as he waved her closer. A tall man with broad shoulders, he was neatly kept in every way from his perfectly straight coat to his slicked back hair. Though his face was intimidating, his eyes were subtly gentle.

The patient pulled away from Mia and quickened her pace to meet him. She clutched his coat in both of her hands and continued her begging for home. Mia caught that she called him her brother.

“Sir, I don’t mean to be rude, but if you have the means to take her home, I’d recommend you do so. I don’t think this place is offering the best care to its patients.” Mia spoke carefully, eyeing them both from head to toe.

Stella nodded frantically in agreement, but her brother only gave a single nod of acknowledgement. “I’ll consider it,” he said calmly as he nodded to Mia once more before ushering his sister back into her room.

Mia took a second to process the series of events that just unfolded as she speed-walked back up the hall to wait for Nurse Linda who arrived moments after. The nurse once again instructed Mia to follow her, stating they needed to go to the nurse’s station to mark down the time at which they’d finished their check-ins. As they approached the station, they were interrupted once again. Another nurse called down from the stairs at the end of the hall, just past the station. “I need help, quick, Jessica Taylor’s having another episode!”

Nurse Linda rushed up the stairs, instructing her “volunteer” to come help as well. They were led, by the nurse who called, into a room with a patient screaming and thrashing around wildly.

“We’ll hold her down, you strap her in!” Nurse Linda instructed as she and the other nurse took Jessica by the shoulders and slammed her against the bed.

Though Mia was horrified by what she was asked to do, she didn’t dare question them. With shaky hands she placed the restraints around the woman’s wrists and ankles, tightening them as she went. When she was done the woman let out a loud cry mixed with anger, sadness, and defeat. Both nurses headed for the door, but Mia hesitated. As if on cue, Nurse Linda turned back to address her. “You stay and keep an eye on her. We need to go find Dr. Freeman to ask about the plans for her surgery.”

_Dr. Freeman?_ “This woman’s having a lobotomy?” she questioned.

“Well nothing else seems to be working.” Nurse Linda remarks and the other nurse smirks. They both head off, leaving Mia alone with the patient.

Not wanting to squander the opportunity, Mia pulls the one chair in the room closer to the bed and sits down. She pulls her steno pad back out from her messenger bag and grabs the pencil tucked behind her ear. Before she could get a chance to pose any questions to her, Jessica speaks up.

“Where’s Amy? Have you seen Amy?”

She speaks in a way so withered and broken that she sounds like a ghost. The pain behind Jessica’s words filled Mia with sadness. The woman wasn’t much older then her, maybe 6 or 7 years. Yet, she looked so _horrible_. Her skin was covered in bruises of different colors and sizes. She had plenty of scrapes and scars to go with them and her face was stained with dirt. Her under eyes were decorated with bags and dark circles, her dirty blonde hair wild and matted.

“Who’s Amy, Jessica?” Mia asked gently.

“Amy is Jessica’s daughter. She's gone. Long gone. Jessica waits here for her to come back.” Jessica answered.

_Poor thing’s so gone she’s speaking in third person._

“Daddy went to look for Amy but now Daddy’s gone too.” She starts up again.

“Where did Amy go missing, Jessica? Can you remember?”

“She went to school. Went to school, never came home. No home. Daddy went looking. Daddy knows how to find people. How to find Amy.”

“How does he know how to do that?”

“Daddy was a cop. Was. Was. All was. Not now. Now Daddy’s dead.”

“What happened to him?”

“Knew too much! Daddy knew too much. Got rid of him. That's why they did it. Cause Daddy knew too much. Best detective in the world! That’s what Daddy was. But he knew too much, so they killed him.”

“ _Who_ killed him, Jessica?”

“Jessica doesn’t know who. Cops say it was an accident. Jessica knows better.”

Mia looked up from her work recording the conversation in her notes. _An ‘accident’?_ “What was your father’s name, Jessica?”

“Daddy was Walter. Walter. Jessica. Amy. Now it’s just Jessica.”

“How do you know his death wasn’t an accident? Why don’t you believe the police?”

“Daddy said he found Amy. Daddy said he’d bring her home. Then Daddy died. Police told Jessica Daddy shot himself. Police said Amy died long ago. Jessica doesn’t believe them. Daddy doesn’t lie. So, Police put Jessica here. Now Jessica waits. Waits for Amy. Waits for Daddy.”

_The police institutionalized her? If what she’s saying is true, they were probably trying to shut her up. I should try and verify her story to be sure, but this could be big._

As she pieced together her thoughts, Mia heard footsteps approaching. She hurriedly put the chair back in its original place and sat back down, then swapped out her steno pad for one of her prop notebooks. She jotted down some math equations and pretended to be doing homework. When Nurse Linda opened the door, she told Mia her hours were up, and she was going to walk her back to the exit. As the two walked back, Mia asked what the doctor had said.

“Ha!” She laughed, shaking her head, “He pushed back her surgery another month! Honestly, I don’t know why they insist on having _him_ perform it. It’s not like he’s the only doctor on Earth that knows how to do a lobotomy.” She shook her head in frustration. “The longer they put it off the longer we have to deal with her shit.”

“Can Miss Taylor even afford a surgery like that?”

“Probably not on her own, but I guess she has some rich relative who’s footing the bill.”

Mia nodded, she pulled up her notes to quickly jot down what she’d learned before stuffing it back in her bag. As they neared the exit, Mia forgot to account for the two small steps that led down to reception. She tripped and fell causing the contents of her bag to scatter across the floor in front of her. As she scrambled to collect her things and tuck them away, Nurse Linda grumbled and leaned down to help her. To Mia’s dismay, Nurse Linda picked up her steno pad. The woman’s brow furrowed, reading what was written on it as they both stood up. Her eyes darted up to meet Mia’s, filled with confusion and anger. Mia gave her a half-hearted shrug and smile before snatching the pad out of the nurse’s hands and making a break for the doors. Luckily, the woman’s age had affected her reaction time because Mia was already parting the double doors when she heard the nurse yell “That was a reporter!” She made it to the street, but didn’t slow down. She kept running for a good block before stopping to hail a taxi back to the office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-2 of Gotham Memoirs  
> Dr. Freeman - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Walter_Jackson_Freeman_II


	3. When One Door Closes...

The second Mia got back to the office, she started writing her article. She mulled over the subject matter on the ride over. She wanted to write about Jessica Taylor, but she knew it wouldn’t be right to publish a story she hadn’t verified. Plus, she had a feeling that Jessica’s plight might be more in line with her _side project_. So, she instead focused on her promise to Stella. She wrote every detail of the horrors she’d encountered inside the hospital. The people of New York City had a right to know what kind of “treatment” their tax dollars were funding.

With a few hours still left in the day, Mia finished her work. Her fellow interns eyed her in disbelief as she walked over to Martin’s office to get it approved. Considering how long scraps had taken to work on in the past, even Mia was surprised by the record time she finished in. Though she shouldn’t have been, she always finished projects ahead of schedule. She only knocked on Martin’s door once. He always took a few minutes to respond but if you knock more then once he’d always got annoyed. Mia never understood it but, to be honest, she didn’t really care. Once given permission to enter, Mia made her way in, closing the door behind her. She flashed the paper in her hands to indicate why she was there, and the chief motioned for her to sit down. This only furthered her excitement as she’d only ever leaned in here.

After reading over her article. The chief let out a surprised, but pleased “huh.” He placed the paper on his desk and slid it back over to Mia. “Not too bad, Lynch. I’m impressed. Send it over to editing, we’ll have it out tomorrow.”

“Yes, sir! Right away!” Mia answered, mustering all her strength to contain the smile that begged to grace her lips.

With Martin’s seal of approval and the paper handed over to an editor, everything was finally in place. Mia returned to her desk to continue working on the papers in her bin until closing time. Once she’d sat down and her focus was occupied, that smile she’d suppressed made its way onto her face, her sunny demeanor feeling out of place in the dreary office. When the day was over, Mia packed up her things and waited for the elevator. It was usually so crowded at closing that they had to take it in groups. Today, she was lucky enough to catch the second one down. Mia stopped on the 17th floor to place the articles she’d borrowed earlier in the return bin, then caught a cab home. Once there, she readied herself for bed and had one of the best nights' sleep in ages.

\---

For once, Mia slept peacefully, and woke up on her own. As an added bonus, she also happened to wake up early. She had enough time to eat breakfast at home instead of her usual attempts at sneaking bites of a granola bar in the back of a taxi. While waiting outside for the cab she called, Mia walked down the block to a street vendor and purchased a copy of _Sun News._ Her happiness soared when she saw her article in a prominent spot in today’s edition. As her cab pulled up, she tucked the paper into her bag and climbed inside.

Once at the office, her day proceeded like normal: she clocked in, sat at her desk, and began working on the pile of papers in her bin. Getting straight to work was Mia’s business-as-usual but her high spirits today only added to her motivation. Not even her colleagues’ snarky comments about “ _being early for once_ ,” could dampen her mood. Still, she was anxious for an update from the chief on how her article had been received so far. When Martin called her into his office around mid-day, that’s what she was expecting. So, when he told her she was fired, Mia was understandably shocked.

“I’m sorry, what? What do you mean I’m fired? Why?” she asked in confusion.

“It’s budget cuts kid, what do you want me to say? When money cuts happen, you drop the weakest link. That’s _you_ , Lynch,” he retorted, indifferently.

“How am I any weaker then Rivers or-or Johnson?” Mia angrily spat.

“Rivers and Johnson write articles that turn a profit. The same can’t be said for you.”

“Well maybe I could make you more money if you actually _let me_ write articles in the first place!”

“Not many places are willing to hire women in the first place you know. I took a chance on you and you should feel lucky. _Now,_ if you still want a chance at finding another job in this industry, you’ll _suck it up and_ ** _move on_**.”

Seeing the anger that had crept into the chief’s eyes after her last outburst, Mia took a breath to calm down. She rubbed her face with her hands and nodded. She didn’t want to accept this, but she couldn’t afford to protest. Chief Editors had a lot of influence in the industry and Martin could easily blacklist her if he so chose.

“Look, because I’m such a nice guy, I can let you have the rest of today. But after that you can’t come back here.”

Despite his words there was no sympathy in his face or voice. Mia thanked him anyway before heading back to her desk. She sat there for a while, dejected and speechless. She didn’t want to edit any more papers today. She didn’t want to do anything today. She _wanted_ to sit at her desk and scream-cry until closing. _But you can’t always get what you want_ . All she could do now is put on a good face and do her best to get her work done. Sure, maybe she was getting fired but if she continues to work hard, maybe when she’s job hunting tomorrow the chief will put in a good word for her. _He is a ‘nice guy’ after all._ She thought to herself. The words were internal but the eyeroll wasn’t.

Maybe it was the exhaustion that came with riding the emotional roller coaster, or maybe it was the seemingly endless speed editing but when Mia woke up, she realized she was still at the office. She looked at the clock to see it was 30 past close. She looked down at her desk and noticed her cheek had left some smudges on the article she’d been editing. _Shit! Sorry Pines._ She thought to herself as she placed it in her desk’s finished bin anyway. She got up and stretched, taking a moment to survey the room. Other than her, it was deserted. _At least no one’s here to see me pack up. If I had to put up with Taylor’s snide little comments on my way out, I don’t know that I could keep from knocking his teeth in. I’m gonna have a hard-enough time finding a job without a set of bloody knuckles._

Mia made her way over to the punch cards, remembering she hadn’t been awake to clock out. When she got there, she noticed the secretary had done it for her. She smiled sadly thinking of Bailey Dawds. She was the only other woman on the floor and what felt like the only person in the building who was nice to her. Mia recalled a number of times that Miss Dawds had punched her card for her when she was running late. While reminiscing over the few good things she’d miss about this place, Mia heard a voice in the distance. It snapped her out of her daydream in an instant. She thought she was the only one still here.

Curious and feeling as though she didn’t have much left to lose, Mia creeped closer to where the talking was coming from, being careful to keep her footsteps silent. The voice was Martin’s and it was coming from his office. _I didn’t know he stayed this late after closing._ She regarded, inching closer to listen in on what sounded like a phone call.

“Yes, it’s all done… Mhm. Yep, just like you told me… No, didn’t suspect a thing. I mean she got pissy but what can you expect from an Irish woman, right?”

 _An Irish w- Is he talking about_ **_me_ ** _?_ Her brow furrowed as she continued to listen.

“Absolutely. Anything to make Mr. Blake happy. She was a small price to pay, anyway. Nice to look at but too mouthy for my taste… Yes, it’s being pulled from the records tomorrow. Recall started this afternoon. Every copy unsold, just like you said, sir… Mhm… Yes.”

_A recall? This must be about my article... But he approved it? Hell, he gave me the tip in the first place! Did the hospital threaten to sue if someone didn’t take the fall?... Or was this a set up…_ Mia’s thoughts raced with this new information. The uneasy pit forming in her stomach almost made her wish she’d never even found out. _What’s that saying? There’s bliss in ignorance? Something like that._

Stealthily she made her way back to her desk and packed her notes into her bag. She also took any office supplies she’d paid for out of pocket – and a few she hadn’t – if her pockets started hurting this stuff would come in handy. It was hers anyway… _Mostly_. Other than that there was no need to pack a box. She wasn’t the type to keep personal items at work, not even knick-knacks. Anything that had any real value, she already grabbed. With her things collected, she made her way out of the office. She chose to take the stairs for a few floors and called the elevator from there, not wanting its noise to raise any suspicion in Martin.

Once outside, Mia walked down the block to the phone booth she always used to call her cab home. When she was out and about, she’d take whatever taxi she spotted first but for her commute to and from work, she always used the same company, _Mama May’s Taxi Service_. It was a small, family business run out of Brooklyn. The distance normally meant it took them a while to show up, but their fares were cheap, and their drivers were trustworthy. At this point she knew them all by name. The owners were nice, too, and sometimes they’d comp her ride as thanks for her loyalty.

While she waited, Mia noticed a few stray papers laying on the street. She scooped them up without really thinking. They were all copies of _The Gotham Times_. She scanned the street for the rouge papers’ source and her eyes landed on a frustrated looking paperboy. Tucking the papers under her arm and checking for cars, she crossed the street and approached him.

“Hey kid, ya’ lose these? They were layin’ out in the street over there,” She extended the papers towards him.

“Yeah they were there cause I put ‘em there! Gotham Times is trash with the way it sells! I got all these copies comin’ out of my pocket, the last thing I wanna do is look at ‘em!” The young boy exclaims, gesturing to the stack of papers in the wagon behind him. “Well, what are you still standin’ here for? You wanna buy ‘em?”

Mia genuinely considers it. She’d had a bad day, and no one could change that. It’d feel nice to at least be able to make this kid’s day suck a little bit less. But she couldn’t forget that she just lost her job, and she didn’t have the money to waste because of it. Before she could give a proper answer, a shiny, white, Peugeot convertible came screeching down the street, stopping right next to them. Its driver was a nicely dressed man, about her age, with neatly combed strawberry-blonde locks and a mischievous set of icy blue eyes – so much like ice they appeared to be grey. He had a boyish face with a devilish smirk. If most people smiled like that, you’d assume they were up to something, but he had a natural charm that made it seem normal.

“Hey kid! Gimmie all the leftover Gotham Times ya’ got!” He exclaimed, leaning over the car door to speak. His voice was smooth and dripped with the same essence of charisma he exuded through appearance.

As soon as the man had pulled up the paper boy’s face lit up with a smile. “Mister Davis! I didn’t think you were comin’!”

“How was business today?”

“Well… I got 100 papers, but I only sold 48.”

Mia glanced again at the stack behind the boy. She then noticed that the backseat of the man’s seemingly new car was filled with stacks of papers as well. They all appeared to be copies of _The Gotham Times_. “That’s a lotta papers,” she noted.

“You’re buyin’ quite a few copies yourself, miss,” the driver responds, gesturing to the papers she’d collected from the street.

Mia’s brows shot up realizing that she was still holding the papers, and that the remark she made had been out loud.

“Oh, she’s wasn’t buyin’ those, Mister Davis!” The newsboy states as he grabs them from Mia’s hands to then hand over to the man. “We were just keepin’ ‘em warm for ya!”

With nothing left to add and feeling glad the boy sold his papers, Mia waves her hand at them and returns to the bench by the phonebooth. The man’s gaze followed her back to her bench, seeming intrigued. Mia watched as he handed some cash to the newsboy and gestured for him to throw the stack in the back with the rest. She loses interest fairly quickly though and pulls out a book from her bag to read while she waits. She doesn’t care to look up as she hears the man’s car screech down the street. What does catch her attention is when she hears it turn and come back her way, stopping in front of her, just as before.

Davis flashes Mia the same smirk he gave the paperboy. “Hey miss, hold on. I got somethin’ for ya! Here,” he reaches out to offer her one of the many papers from his back seat, “Since you were eyein’‘em I thought you might like a copy. I’ve got a few to spare.” He chuckles, gesturing to the mountain behind him.

Mia shook her head, “Oh, no, I wasn’t eyeing ‘em. The kid dropped a few copies in the street, I was just returning them.”

“Well take it anyway. There’s some interesting news in there!”

“Can’t be too interesting, otherwise it’d sell more.” She mumbled but took the copy, folding it up and tucking it in her bag.

“What’s a cutie like you doin’ sat out here all on your lonesome for, anyway, huh? Can I give you a ride somewhere?”

It takes all Mia’s will not to roll her eyes. _Geez, could you lay it on any thicker, there bud? What are you, a pickup artist?_

“Thanks, but I’m already waiting on a cab. You probably don’t have room in there for a passenger anyway,” Mia declined, nodding to the stacks that occupied the front seat.

He looked down at them and chuckled. “Good point. I almost forgot.”

She found his laugh frustratingly cute. This was a conversation, not a game, but she felt like he was winning. She also felt like she was being irrational. This guy was just a flirt. But flirty men had dark sides. She was protecting herself by not showing this guy the time of day. _But damn if he isn’t handsome._

“Then, may I have the pleasure of making your acquaintance? I’m Edmund Davis.”

“Amelia Lynch.” She responded without even thinking. She normally wouldn’t give her real name to strangers. So why did it slip out so naturally? _Stop being stupid Mia. He’s a tool._

Coming to her rescue like a guardian angel, a yellow cab pulled up behind Davis’s car and honked its horn. Seizing the opportunity to escape, Mia waved at the driver whom she recognized as an old Englishman named Gabe.

“Well it was nice to meet you Mister Davis, but that’s my ride,” she said, eager to hurry off and disappear into the safety of Gabe’s backseat.

Davis watched her walk to the taxi through his rearview mirror, with a pout on his face. Once she was inside, the car honked its horn again. Slightly startled, Davis remembered he was blocking their way. So, he threw the car into gear and sped off, the name Amelia Lynch still stuck in his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-4 of Gotham Memoirs  
> Blacklisting - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blacklisting  
> 1935 Peugeot 402 Eclipse - https://dealeraccelerate-all.s3.amazonaws.com/emc/marketing_assets/113/1941_Olds_98.jpg


	4. ...Another One Opens

Upon returning home, Mia laid in bed for over an hour - still dressed and immobile. Her emotions were more tangled than string lights after a Christmas storm. Untangling how she felt was a near impossible task and she related to the feeling of being ripped from the awning and spit out in the yard. That was about how her day had gone. The plummet from success to failure would have been enough but the conversation she’d listened in on left her more than troubled. Was she simply the victim of a reticent corporate settlement or was there something more to this? How would she even go about finding out something like that? … Did she even want to?

Then there was that coy man in his flashy car. He was a random encounter, someone she’d likely never see again. Yet he ran round her thoughts like an untrained puppy. Demanding attention that she lacked the will to deny him. His sparkling eyes and cheeky grin flashed in her memory the entire ride home. She must have seemed sick, because Gabe had wished her well when they’d arrived at her building. Even now, Mia felt it hard to decipher if the aching in her abdomen was from butterflies or nausea. The man was handsome and charming, there was no denying that, but he reminded her an awful lot of someone she’d rather forget.

A knock on her apartment door startled Mia into an upright position. She rose to answer when she heard the soft voice of the landlady call her name, “Miss Lynch?”

Mrs. Johnson stood in the hall in front of Mia’s door. She was a short woman with an apple figure and olive complexion. Her hair was dark and curly, and her demeanor unforgiving. “Your rent is due today, Miss Lynch. 45 dollars, as normal.” The woman held out her gloved hand expectantly. “You haven’t forgotten have you?”

“No ma’am,” Mia responded hollowly. She debated telling the woman about the change in her financial status, but thought better of it. Mrs. Johnson was not one for sympathy. It's likely her knowing of Mia’s misfortune would only worsen things.

Mia dug through the box of books she kept under her bed in search of her rent. She kept the money she set aside for living expenses in an envelope tucked in a copy of _Julias Caesar_. Plucking out the landlady’s cut, Mia returned the book to its place and slid the box back under her bed with the side of her foot. She then handed the money to Mrs. Johnson, who nodded indifferently. 

“This arrived for you today.” The woman handed Mia an envelope before disappearing back down the hall.

Locking the door behind her, Mia took her mail to her desk and sat down to open it. The envelope was small and white, her name neatly written on the back of it. It had no return address or sign of postage, insinuating it’d been dropped off in person. It was closed with a wax seal displaying a monogram and a floral detail. Mia’s heart twinged with guilt as she instantly knew who it was from. Still, she opened it carefully and read the beautiful hand writing inside. 

_Dear Amelia,_

_I hope you are well. It feels like ages since we’ve spoken. I know your job keeps you busy. We’re similar in the assiduous careers we’ve chosen. It’s something Juliet scolded us both for. “You must take rest before it takes you,” as she’d always say. I’m sure you remember her idioms as fondly as I do. Regardless, I do wish to hear from you soon. You’re my only family in New York, - my only family in America, for that matter - and I must admit in recent days my home has felt quite lonely. Perhaps you’ll reconsider my offer of moving in? You know you’d always be welcome. I’ll be waiting for a letter or a call._

_With love, Jo._

\---

The brash screaming of her alarm clock jolted Mia to her senses. She never slept with the alarm set but she had a full day today and didn’t want to wake up late. She got dressed in a hurry, as always. After typing up an updated version of her resume, Mia headed off to call her cab. She headed to 24th street, home to several news agency headquarters. Her qualifications should have made her shoo-in for a new position. The competitive nature and inherent sexisim of the industry prepared her to expect to be hired as an intern. But her experience at _Sun News_ and the fact that she graduated Summa Cum Laude in Journalism from Columbia University should have guaranteed her at least _that_ . It _should_ have, but it didn’t. 

Mia was turned away from every major paper on 24th street with little to no consideration. It made her wonder even more about how deliberate her release from _Sun News_ had really been. Had she been blacklisted from the industry? Shaking the negativity from her mind, Mia continued, determined to find work on 25th street. The offices it housed were much less reputable. Her classmates wouldn't be caught dead job searching here. But she had no other option. It was this or waitressing. Her luck this go around wasn’t quite as awful, though the only offers extended were writing women’s advice columns on subjects like cooking and housekeeping. She had enough sense not to turn them down outright but was desperate enough to say she’d “consider it.” 

Exhausted, Mia slumped onto a bench in front of what seemed to be a run down office building. She pulled out her cigarette case from her bag and lit up a smoke. As she puffed away her nerves, her mind wandered back to the letter she received the night before. ‘ _You know you’d always be welcome.’ Even as an unemployed failure?_ She weighed her options in her mind as her gaze fixed on the phonebooth across the street. 

A familiar voice pulled her back to reality. “Miss Lynch?”

“Mister Davis?” Mia answered, confused. She had looked over her shoulder to be sure, and there he was: the flirty man with the snazzy convertible. Considering the vastness of New York City, she’d honestly not expected to see this man again. Yet here he was before her, having just emerged from the archaic building behind them.

“What are you doing waiting’ out here, do you have an appointment with someone?” he asked, gesturing to the building. He seemed equally as confused to be meeting again, though his confusion subsided into excitement, rather quickly. 

“Oh, no I was just stopping for a smoke,” she explained, standing up to put out her bud on the rim of a nearby garbage can, then tossing its remains inside. “Appointment?” she asked considering his words, then turning to look back at the doors where he’d emerged. “I didn’t realise this building was still operational. It looks like it oughta be condemned.”

“Condemned?! Nonsense! This is the offices of The Gotham Times! I’m a reporter here. I was gonna mention that to ya yesterday but you left in such a rush.”

_A reporter, huh? Wonder if he was trying to boost his sales with all those papers. Seems like a waste, to me. But I guess if he’s got the money…_

“I had places to be.” she answered inattentively, still eyeing the building. Upon closer inspection, she was able to make out the paper’s name painted in faded letters above the main entrance. A thought crossed her mind and she turned to look back at Davis. “Are they hiring?”

He blinked a few times at her question before nodding with a bright, wide smile. “Of course! The Gotham Times is always lookin’ for new talent! Head on in and talk to our Editor-in-Chief, Mr. Kane. I’m sure you’ll get along. ”

“Thank you.” She replied with a nod and a smile, leaning down to collect her bag from off the bench. 

“It’ll be nice havin’ you around Ms. Lynch. Gives us a chance to get to know each other a little better.” Davis winked at her as he held the door. 

A blush rose to Mia’s cheeks but a groan came from her lips. “Don’t make me change my mind, Mr. Davis.” 

He chuckled, pointing her in the direction of Mr. Kane’s office before retreating outside. 

\---

Mr. Kane was a tall, slender man with large, square glasses, a handlebar mustache and silver streaks in his otherwise black hair. His face was serious and mildly intimidating. That was until he noticed Mia knock on his office’s open door. Then he smiled, and any anxiety Mia had in her chest came out with a breath.

“Welcome to The Gotham Times. Are you here to give us a tip?" he asked, moving the cigar he’d been smoking from his mouth to his fingers.

"No, sir. Not yet any way. My name's Amelia Lynch and I'd like to work for you as a reporter.” She answered, offering him a copy of her resume. “I graduated top of my class when earning my Bachelors in Journalism from Columbia University. I also have experience working as an intern for Sun News and am very well versed in all aspects of news reporting such as interviews, writing, editing, and commentaries.”

He nodded as she spoke while eyeing the paper she’d handed him. When she’d finished speaking he stood and offered his hand for Mia to shake, which she accepted. “I’m George Kane. How familiar are you with our paper, Miss Lynch?” he motioned for her to sit down and she obliged.

“Not very, I’m afraid. Though it has caught my intrigue as of late.”

“That’s fine but I must emphasise this: our newspaper is different from the others. Allow me to ask you some questions. This is a job interview after all.”

“Of course, please.”

“What principles should reporters hold most dear?”

“Truthfulness and objectivity. It is a reporter's duty to report the facts of a subject in an objective manor, so the readers have the information necessary to construct an informed opinion. We must put aside personal matters such as bias and greed to ensure the news is always reported fairly, for the sake of the public.”

“Agreed. These are principles we must strictly adhere to. Next question. Should the private affairs of public figures be published solely for the purpose of entertainment?”

“When reporting on public figures, we should focus solely on newsworthy matters relating to their occupation or other relevant subjects regarding the public. We must otherwise remember that fame does not remove one’s right to privacy, and we have no more right to cross that line simply because someone is a well-known figure.”

“Good, good. Last question. How far should one go to report the truth? In other words, must news reporters abide by so-called morals and ethics?”

Mia pauses for a moment to think. She’s definitely used unorthodox tactics to chase leads before but there should always be a line, right? “I suppose it depends on the gravity of the case you’re reporting. While in most cases I would say there are a basic set of rules that no reporter should cross, including breaking the law, I can’t say I’d follow that in every instance. There are some things so important that you must do whatever it takes to find the truth.”

Kane considers what Mia has said for a moment before speaking again. “There was no wrong answer to the question I just asked you. Every reporter answers it differently. The different ways people approach finding and reporting news is what makes our industry so varied. Your answer simply shows me your attitude and the type of reporting you want to do." He takes a thoughtful puff from his cigar before continuing, "Can you start tomorrow?"

Mia's eyes lit up in excitement. She nodded happily. "Yes, sir, absolutely! Thank you for the opportunity. I'll work hard and won't disappoint you."

He didn't have any doubt that she would. The young girl was interesting in her views and he was sure her energy would bring new life into the office. With another shaking of hands and a pleasant goodbye she was off, adrenaline rushing through her veins at this new path she'd stumbled onto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-5 of Gotham Memoirs  
> Monogramed Wax Seal - https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0655/6853/products/gentle_whisper_DSC_0158_2048x.jpg?v=1594476470


	5. A Game of Cat and Mouse

It didn’t take long for Mia to settle in. _The Gotham Times’_ offices ran very differently from _Sun News’_ , but she was a quick learner. The building was smaller – staff and operations were much more condensed, here. _The Gotham Times_ only had four departments: Editorial, Sales, Printing and Administrative. The latter two were on the first floor, the former on the second. Mia, as a reporter, was assigned a desk in Editorial. 

During her first week, Mia was given mostly editorial work, much like at her old job. Unlike her old job, she was also given a few simple interviews regarding construction and politics. The assignments weren’t anything special, but being trusted with articles _not_ about home economics, was much more fulfilling. She felt like she had already accomplished more in her first few weeks at _The Gotham Times_ , than she had in her entire six month stretch at _Sun News_.

Mia had yet to be late to her position at _The Gotham Times_. Getting out of bed had just been easier recently. Arriving at her normal time – five minutes before the start of her shift – Mia sat down at her desk and got her things in order. She had no editorial work today as she was finishing up an article. She spent the first few hours of her day finishing up her final draft before taking it to Mr. Kane for final approval. She knocked on his open door, he waved her in and she handed him her work.

“Nice job, Lynch – not that I expected any different from you. Have White take this to printing, we’ll try having it out tomorrow.” He smiled as he handed the paper back to her.

“Absolutely, sir, thank you,” Mia responded, heading to the door before he stopped her.

“Hold on Lynch, I’ve got something else for you.”

She turned back around, closing the door behind her. “Yes, Mr. Kane?”

“Our paper’s scheduled an interview with Charlotte Harris next week, I assume you’ve heard of her?”

“Yes. She’s the first female aviator to take a solo flight across the Atlantic. We attended Columbia around the same time.”

“That’s her, yes. The interview will be at the Harris residence, next Thursday at 3. You’ll be conducting the interview and writing the article so you should take some time this week to do research and prepare. You’ll also-,”

“Wait, I’m sorry, Mr. Kane. _I’ll_ be conducting the interview?”

Mr. Kane raised his eyebrows at her interruption. He cleared his throat and straightened his glasses before continuing, “Yes, Ms. Lynch, is there a problem?”

Mia sat back in her chair and untensed her shoulders. “No, sir, I-I’m honored by the opportunity a-and humbled that you trust me with something so important, this early in my career here, but… why _me_?”

The chief gave a light chuckle to her bewildered question. After taking a moment to puff on his cigar, he answered her, “Well, Ms. Lynch, I don’t think you give yourself enough credit. You may still be new with us, sure, but you have experience in the industry. And you’ve proven yourself to be a skilled reporter in the short time you _have_ had here. You’re timely and diligent, your work rarely has any mistakes. You seem to get along well with most of the others in the office and the readers seem to like you as well. Your articles are always positively received. You’ve given me every reason to choose you for this interview on your own, however, I’d be remiss to say that was the only reason I chose you.”

Mia nodded for him to continue, doing her best to conceal how happy the chief’s compliments had made her. Mr. Kane tapped his cigar against the ashtray on his desk and gave it another puff before continuing again.

“Female reporters are hard to come by, especially ones that have ambition like you, Lynch. Having you gives us an edge over these other papers. It’s rare for prominent women to be interviewed by female reporters. With your interviewing style and the marketing angle of women interviewing women, I think we could really have something here. Something that’ll be interesting and unique enough to make people want to reach for our paper, but something genuine and well written enough to not just be a gimmick.”

Mia listened intently while still doing her best to remain professional despite her excitement. “Thank you, Mr. Kane. I’m honored to take on this project. Any work you give me regarding it, I guarantee will be my best.”

“I don’t doubt that, Ms. Lynch. You have some common ground with Ms. Harris since you both attended Columbia University. That’ll be a good foundation for starting your research for the interview. I do have something for you to work on today, though. Tonight, you’ll be going to the premiere of _Morning Glory_ , afterwards you’ll be interviewing the lead actress, Daisy Collins.”

“Oh uh, a movie premier? Alright...” Despite her efforts, the abhorrence in her voice was evident.

Mr. Kane sighed, “I know. I normally don’t like publishing entertainment pap, but this will be good practice, get readers interested in the project, and well, we could use the sales. Plus, Ms. Collins is a friend of Davis’s, so the interview wasn’t too hard to get. Oh, that reminds me, you’ll be attending the premiere with Mr. Davis.”

“What?! _No!_ ” There was no hiding her tone that time. Mia’s face was covered in displeasure.

Mr. Kane removed his glasses to rub the wrinkles from his furrowed brow. Mia hadn’t been here long but the relationship between her and Edmund had developed pretty quickly. He was always coming up to her desk to talk and she’d brush him off. Every night he’d offer her a ride home, which she never accepted. He’d offered to buy her lunch one week and she made a point to start bringing her own. To most of their co-workers, it was amusing to watch Davis play for a prize he had no chance of winning. To Mr. Kane, it was an annoying distraction.

“Mr. Davis wanted the night off to attend the premier and to make up for his absence, he offered to set up the interview for you. The least you could do is go to the show with him.”

“What, so I can babysit him?” Mia retorted, crossing her arms, and slumping back in her chair.

“ _Ms. Lynch_ ,” he scolded. She rolled her eyes in response.

“Fine. I’ll go. And I promise I will be cordial and professional with Ms. Collins… But I can’t promise the same for Davis.”

It was Kane’s turn to roll his eyes. Mia stood up and took her papers. He called to her as she was about to leave, “Just bring him back in one piece.”

“I can’t promise that either,” she called as she walked off. Mia slumped down at her desk. The look of disgust still painted on her face.

“Hey, Mia, why the long face?”

She looked up to meet the face of Nathan White, the _Gotham Times’_ sole intern. He was a spunky young man with a head full of scruffy blonde curls and a smattering of freckles on his cheeks. He and Mia got along pretty quickly and just seeing his face made her frown disappear.

“It’s nothin’ Nate, don’t worry about it. I do have something for you though,” she said, handing him the final draft of her article. “Can you take this to publishing for me? Mr. Kane wants them to have it out tomorrow.”

“Sure thing, Mia. I gotta run but I hope you cheer up!” he said, before smiling and speeding off to the stairwell.

Mia smiled and waved goodbye to him. She then began to pack her things so she could go home and prepare for the premier. She hadn’t seen Davis yet today, and if she was quick, she might be able to leave before he showed up. Meeting him at the theater would still count as going with him, right? She managed to get out the front door of the office.

_Alright, soon as the traffic clears I just gotta get to the phonebooth and call my ride._

“Hey, Lynch! Leaving so soon?”

_Damn it._

Davis came scrambling out of the doors looking a bit breathless but still smiling.

_Was he trying to catch up to me?... Where the hell did he come from?_

Mia gave him a factitious grin and spoke in a sarcastic tone, “Of course not, Davis. How could I leave without seeing _you_?”

Davis smiled anyway. He was never deterred by her remarks. It was one of the things that frustrated Mia to her wits end.

“I assume you heard the good news?” he asked, teasingly.

Mia rolled her eyes. “We must have different definitions of ‘good news.’”

“I got you an interview, didn’t I? Plus, you get to see a movie! How bad a night could it be? Have you ever even seen one before?”

“Of course, I have! What are you implying?”

He chuckled, “Nothin’, nothin’! You just don’t seem like the type a girl who enjoys uhh… ya know, _fun_.”

She scoffed, “I resent that.”

“You would.”

Mia groaned and Davis laughed. _It’s gonna be a long night._

“So, what are you wearin’ tonight?” He winked, “Not _that,_ I hope.” Davis gestured to Mia’s outfit.

She was dressed simply, in a blue cardigan over a black, boat-neck sweater, tucked into a dark grey skirt. Even though she knew she wasn’t dressed fancily, his comment still hurt. It wasn’t movie premiere attire, but it wasn’t that bad, surely.

“Of course not. I’m heading home now to change.”

“Let me drive you!”

“No.”

Davis crossed his arms with a pout. “Why don’t you ever let me drive you home?”

“I don’t want you knowin’ where I live! It’s bad enough I gotta deal with you at work, I don’t need you showing up there too.”

He paused to think and in a moment, his pout turned into a big grin. “Well ya might as well let me take you home now. Cause I’ll have to know where you live to pick you up tonight.”

“Who said I’m letting you pick me up tonight?! I know where the theater is, I can get there on my own.”

“And have us show up separately? As dates? That just wouldn’t be proper! You’re attending this event for work, Lynch, that means you’re representing the paper. You wouldn’t want anyone thinkin’ poorly of the paper, now would ya?”

Mia crossed her arms and tossed her head back with a groan. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. He was right, it wouldn’t be proper to show up separately and as she eyed the smug faced man in front of her, she could tell he knew. Everything about him made her blood boil, from his teasing remarks to his cocky demeanor. He was a self-righteous jerk who probably had everything in life served to him on a silver platter. 

Yet, late at night, when she laid comfortably in bed on the cusp of sleep, her mind was brimming with thoughts of him. Whether it was his adorably jovial laugh, or the way his perfect nose would crinkle up when he smiled, it was still always him.

Though it pained her to admit it, Mia knew deep down, that she didn’t hate him. She hated _herself_ for wanting him. The worst part was she could feel herself slipping. She knew she couldn't say no to him forever. No matter how firm she was, he just kept trying, and with every try her burning urge to give in only grew stronger. That terrified her. It made simple things like accepting a ride home, dangerous. Each “yes” would only become easier and with each “yes” she got closer to the edge. She’d fallen over that edge before, she swore she’d never do it again.

 _Just say no. One social faux pas is no big deal. It can be explained away. We build these walls for a reason, Mia. Just_ **_say no._ **

**“** Fine. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn
> 
> References:  
> Stages 1-6 & 1-7 of Gotham Memoirs  
> Amelia Earhart, the Inspiration for Charlotte Harris - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Amelia_Earhart


	6. There Might Be Something There

Upon arriving at her apartment building, Mia headed straight up to her room. Annoyingly but predictably, Davis followed her. He seemed in awe of the size of her room, commenting repeatedly on how small it was. Thankfully she’d just tidied up this past weekend so, at least he didn’t have _ that _ to bug her about. Instead, he planted himself happily on her desk chair, swiveling back and forth like a child as he vetoed every dress she owned. To be fair, she didn’t own many, and most of them were outdated or ill fitting. But she didn’t want to hear that from  _ him.  _ Getting bored, Davis eventually got up to stand behind Mia, attempting to see into her wardrobe himself.

“Oh,  _ hey _ , what about this?” He reached in over her shoulder to pull out a silk, floor length, burgundy dress. 

Mia tried to push him out of the way before he could grab it but she failed, leaving Davis to look from her to the dress, triumphantly.

“Why’d you show me all those sad sacks when you had this back there? I bet it looks  _ great _ on you,” he said with a smirk as he traced the plunging neckline with his finger.

A bright blush rose to her cheeks and she couldn’t tell if it was from his statement or from frustration. “No! I’m not wearing that!” She said as she snatched the hanger out of his hands to place the dress carefully back in it’s spot at the back of her closet.

“Well why not? It’s perfect!” He whined.

"I only wear that dress for special occasions.”

“What, I’m not special enough?”

“ _ No _ …  Not even close ,” she mumbled.

Davis pouted, and slumped back into the desk chair. “Well, you don’t have anything else you can wear. I wouldn’t be caught dead with someone wearing those.” He gestured to the dresses on the floor that he’d already rejected. “We’ll just have to go buy you a new one,” he said with a sigh and a shake of his head. He tried to play it off as being a huge burden, but Mia could see the twinkle in his eye.

_ Of course the rich kid likes shopping. Could he be any more cliché? _

Still, he was right,  _ again _ . If she wasn’t going to wear  _ that _ dress, she had nothing else suitable. So, Mia reluctantly allowed Davis to usher her back down to his yellow Duesenberg. Another one of his many cars. Mia wondered just how many he had and where he kept them all.  _ What a waste of money. You don't even need  _ **_one_ ** _ in the city, anyway. Let alone a fleet.  _ She leaned back in the seat a bit, resting her elbow on the open window and her chin in her hand, the plush leather seats cupping her frame perfectly.  _ Damn if it ain’t comfy though. _

It wasn’t long until they reached Midtown. After handing the car over to a valet in an upscale lot, Davis led Mia around the promenade. Occasionally, he’d slow in front the odd store or boutique with gowns on display in their windows before deciding they weren’t interesting enough for him to stop. He seemed to have a destination in mind. Eventually they arrived out front of a large building labeled  _ Bloomingdale’s _ . Davis held the door open for Mia, ushering her in. She did her best to hide her unease. This store was a  _ well _ out of her price range but she had no intention of letting it show. She already let the man know where she lived, there was no chance she’d let him buy her a dress on top of that.  _ Hopefully they offer credit. _

\---

Shopping with Davis was like being with a child in a candy store. Everything seemed to catch his eye, and the pile in Mia's arms just kept getting heavier. The short woman struggled to keep them all from dragging on the floor, as she cradled the flourishing pile like a delicate newborn.

"Shouldn't  _ you _ be carrying these?" She asked, tired and annoyed.

"Why's that? You're the one who's tryin' 'em on," he replied, without looking away from the clothing rack he was inspecting.

"Cause you're the one pickin' 'em all out! I've gotta do the work of puttin' on a damn fashion show for you, the least you could do is carry them for me," she grumbled.

Davis waved off her complaints with his hand, selecting a few more items to stack on her like a pack mule before guiding her to the fitting rooms. Mia followed him, complaining the whole way about how she couldn't see over the mountainous selection in her arms. He ignored those remarks, too. 

He excitedly planted himself outside of her dressing stall, lightly bouncing in place on the plush ottoman as he waited for her to emerge. Every time she did his eyes would light up as he took her in. Her hourglass frame had every dress clinging to her elegantly. Though each of Davis's selections had looked beautiful on her, Mia could find issues in all of them. The two would argue over each one, with Davis defending how perfectly his selection had looked on her while Mia would complain about how restricting and uncomfortable it was. It was her turn to veto. 

Finally, Davis found a dress that Mia didn't utterly despise. She still didn’t _like_ it of course, she made that _very_ clear, but she didn’t hate it. He wasn’t happy that he failed to get a solid win out of her, but Davis was willing to take this partial victory with the premier getting closer. While Mia changed back into her street clothes so they could leave, Davis flagged down a store attendant to pay for the dress. Despite her original opposition to the idea, Mia knew she would likely never wear the dress again after tonight. So, she was willing to let it slide.

Davis dropped Mia back off at her apartment so she could finish getting ready, before heading home to prepare, himself. She unenthusiastically pulled the gaudy, forest green number back over her. To match with the silver, floral detailing on the bust of the dress, Mia accessorised with a silver, pendant necklace and it’s matching dangle earrings. She then pulled her vibrant ginger locks into a low bun. Her hair was shoulder length when it was down and unstyled. She kept it longer than what was currently trendy but that’s how she liked it. Mia never cared all that much about trends anyway. But her indifference did make deciding how to do her makeup, troublesome. Not wanting to look _ too o _ ut of date, she played it safe by keeping it minimal: warm red lipstick, light rogue, brown eyeliner and a bit of pencil to shape her brows. She figured the extravagance of her dress would make up for her face being a bit bare. To finish off her ensemble she threw on a pair of strappy, black kitten heels.

With perfect timing, as Mia gave herself a final check in the mirror, she heard Davis pull up. He laid into the horn of the fiery red Mercedes he was driving until she came to the window. Upon seeing her lean out, Davis stepped out of the car. With his signature smirk he leaned against its side and waved her down. Mia’s face scrunched up in disgust.

“Oh no. No, no, no. He’s no doin’ that,” she grumbled to herself before calling down to him, “What are you doin’ honkin’ at me like some cat-caller? Have you completely forgotten your manners? Get up here and knock on my door like a real gentleman, you big phony!”

Davis shrunk at her words and even with the distance, Mia could see his face light up in a blush. In response, her lips curled up in an evil smile - she’d never managed to put him on tilt like that before and she was reveling in it. 

“Come on, sweetheart, we don’t have time for games. We’ll be late!” he called back up to her, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Well then I guess we’re gonna be late.” Mia shrugged, as she sat down comfortably in her desk chair. “Cause I’m not movin’ ‘til I hear a knock on my door.”

Her jovial mood only grew as she watched Davis sulk his way towards the building’s entrance. In a few moments, there was a weak knock on the apartment door.

\---

They arrived at the theater just before the premiere. As Davis led her inside, Mia could feel his eyes on her, waiting for a reaction. She made no effort to hide her awe at the building’s grandiose design. She’d been to countless theaters before but they were all to see plays or concerts. She did still have some experience with movie theaters, but she’d never been to one this exquisite. 

The entrance was a pair of golden, french doors with frosted glass and handles shaped like crescent moons. Inside, the walls were constructed of intricate, espresso wood paneling with gold detailing. The floors were beautifully laid white marble tiles outlined in more gold. The high ceiling was painted with a captivating mural of the night sky. Hanging from it’s center was a large, elegant, crystal chandelier. Directly below the light fixture, in the center of the room was an enormous, circular, plush, burgundy carpet. Atop which sat a dark leather, circular couch that surrounded a white, two-tiered, marble fountain with even more gold detailing. To the right of the entrance was the theater’s box office and to the left was the concessions stand and bar. All three areas had ornate counters carved with the same espresso colored wood that lined walls. Every detail of the room came together in homogeneous splendor that made entering it feel like stepping into a painting.

There was still some time before the film would start, so all the premiere attendees were mingling in the grand lobby. The majority of people were lounging near the bar and Davis made his way over to join the crowd. Being unfamiliar with the venue, Mia decided to stick with him but his teasing made her want to reconsider. 

“I thought you said you’ve been to a movie before, Lynch. Yet you’re gawking like you’ve never seen anything like this.” Davis remarked as the two approached the bar top.

“I’ve seen movies Davis, just not at a palace like this,” she said, leaning against the bar top and fiddling with a coaster, absentmindedly. “And before you remark on that, I’ve also been to upscale stage theaters before, so it’s no that I’ve never seen something this fancy. It’s just that architecture this beautiful deserves to be admired, no matter how many times you’ve seen something like it. The people who built this place clearly took care to wow the attendants, who am I to deny them that? This is art.” 

Mia turned to face the grand lobby again, taking in all of its beauty. She felt Davis’s eyes on her as she did so but she paid him no mind. He could think of her as simple if he liked, she knew her worth. Surprisingly, he made no snide remark to her comment. Instead he ordered them both some seltzers - seeing as Mia was technically working and he would be driving, it was best not to order anything alcoholic. He handed Mia her drink and turned to join her in her admiration of the theater. She nodded to him in thanks.

“I never really thought about it like that,” he finally replied, “What other theaters have you been to?”

“Oh several. But if you mean ones like this,” she gestured to the lobby in front of them, “then the nicest one I've been to is the Belasco.”

Davis’s eyebrows raised in surprise and he turned to look at her, “No kiddin’? What’d you go see?”

“I went with family to watch The Group Theatre perform Clifford Odets’ newest play,  _ Awake and Sing _ . It was a good show, I like Odets’ work.” She spoke casually, taking a sip of her drink when she finished.

Davis appeared blown away by her statement. “Your family attended a premiere at Belasco?!”

“It wasn’t the premiere, we were too busy to make that. We went to their third performance a few days later.”

“Wow. Still, I wouldn’t have guessed you could affor- er, I didn’t think that was really your scene.”

“I guess there's a lot you don’t know about me.” She turned to look at Davis, finally noticing the shocked look on his face. She smiled.

“Well any time I try talkin’ to ya, you don’t answer me,” he pouted.

“Maybe you should try asking better questions.” She teased, bringing a smile back to his face.

Just as he was about to ask her something else, the two were approached and greeted by another man. He was tall and slender with slick blonde hair and an emerald green gaze. Mia’s eyes watered a bit from the strong smell of his cologne. 

“Edmund! What took you so long!” The man exclaimed with open arms. When he saw Mia, a sly look came on his face. “Got yourself another girl, huh? What family is she from?”

Mia tensed up, squeezing her glass in an attempt to quell the disgust that threatened to overtake her expression.  _ Why do men like this always assume things? He could’ve just asked for an introduction like a normal person. Hell, he could’ve asked me, himself, I’m not mute.  _ She looked over to Davis who appeared to be gritting his teeth.

“She’s my colleague,  _ Kerry. _ Kerry, Ms. Lynch. Ms. Lynch, Kerry.”

Remembering her promise to the chief, Mia extended her hand to Kerry. He sneered at it, making no effort to acknowledge her directly.

“What are you thinking, bringing a colleague to Daisy’s premiere?” Kerry remarked, disgustedly. “You can play around with commoners all you want but bringing one to a formal event like this? That's just-”

“Hold your tongue, Kerry. Ms. Lynch is a colleague, nothing more. She’s here to conduct an interview, unlike you.” Davis responded, seeming equally as disgusted.

Even though he’d referred to her as just a colleague, Mia’s heart skipped a beat at Davis’s defense of her. She wasn’t a shy woman. She felt no shame putting rude men like Kerry in their place, but she was working. The last thing she wanted was to make the paper look bad by chewing out some rich floozy in front of such a big crowd. Having someone stick up for her made it a lot easier to hold her tongue.

“Hmph.” The man huffed before looking Mia up and down. “She ain’t half as fine as Daisy. Probably not as rich either. Daisy doesn’t have the deepest pockets but she’s a Hollywood superstar. She’s a lot more in your league, Edmund.”

“Would you stop being so inappropriate, Kenny? Show some respect! You have no idea what kind of background Ms. Lynch comes from.” Davis’s face was starting to get red as he tightened his grip on his drink.

“Fine. Consider it a slip of the tongue.”

_ What makes this guy think he’s so special? I guarantee if I were to punch him in is fat, ugly nose it’d still bleed like anyone else's.  _ Mia took a swig of her drink to help her cool down.

“Oh Edmund, what took you so long!” A woman’s voice called to them, breaking the tension. 

“Ah, speak of the devil. I’ll take my leave. Don’t get caught in the middle of the catfight, Edmund!” Kenny laughed, smacking Davis on the shoulder before walking off. 

Davis whipped at his sleeve with his hand where the man had touched him, shaking his head before turning his attention to the woman who’d approached them. His demeanor softened at her presence. “Congratulations, Daisy!”

Daisy pouted, playfully. “Is that all you have to say to me? I-” She cut herself off when her eyes landed on Mia. “Who's  _ she _ ?” Her cheerful tone quickly turned snarky.

“This is Ms. Lynch. The colleague I asked you to do an interview with?” Davis reminded her.

“You didn’t mention she was a woman,” Daisy sneered.

Mia didn’t bother to offer her hand this time. She could tell by the woman’s disdain that it’d just be ignored again. Still, maintaining her professionalism, she smiled kindly at Ms. Collins and gave her a nod in acknowledgement.

“I still don’t see why you can’t just interview me, instead, sweetie,” she cooed at Davis, returning to her chipper facade. 

“I told ya, Daisy, it’s for this new project Mr. Kane’s workin’ on. It’s all female interviews, and I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not a lady.”

Mia gave a small chuckle to his joke. Davis lit up in a bright smile, not used to getting a laugh out of her. Daisy furrowed her brow at his reaction, glaring from him to Mia. 

“I can’t believe you even still care about that inane paper, anyway. It’s had its foot in the grave for so long, it’s a miracle that it’s still breathing.” Daisy cuts in harshly.

“Daisy!” Davis exclaims, seeming genuinely hurt. 

Mia winced a bit at her statement as well. She’d only worked for the paper for a while, and it certainly wasn’t the cream of the crop but it wasn’t doing  _ that  _ poorly. Plus, she liked her new position. _ The Gotham Times _ felt like a new home to her, and she didn’t appreciate hearing someone bad mouth it.

“Fine.” Daisy wined, “You can look for me after the show,” she addressed Mia then turned back to Davis, “But you owe me for this.” She winked at him before walking off. 

Mia tightened her grip on her glass, taking another sip to cool off again. There was no reason that Daisy’s flirting should have bugged her. Davis said it himself, they were just colleagues. But she couldn’t help the anger that sparked up inside her at that wink. After their conversation with Daisy, the lights in the lobby flickered, indicating it was time to start the show. Davis held out his arm to guide Mia to their seats and to his surprise, she actually took it. 

The film was about an hour long. It told the tale of a wealthy young woman who falls in love with a seemingly perfect man, only to find out he’s been two-timing her and plans to kill her for her fortune. A lot of the plot reminded Mia of her own life. She wasn’t wealthy like the film’s main character but she knew a thing or two about violent sleazebags. Overall, Mia enjoyed the film. She still preferred plays to movies, but found the plot to this one intriguing. She’d also been impressed by the acting, finding it incredibly well done.

As the lights came up in the theater, the couple rose from their seats, heading into the hall with the rest of the crowd. Mia easily fell behind in the wave of people. She was a shorter woman, measuring in at just under 5’ 5”. Davis, noticing he’d lost her, made his way back through the stream of people to find her. A blush came to her cheeks as Davis took her by the hand to guide her through the sea of bodies towards the backstage, not wanting to lose her again. Once through the door that led to the backstage area, they both took a moment to breathe. 

“You almost got trampled back there,” Davis joked with a chuckle as he led her towards the dressing rooms.

Surprising both of them, Mia giggled. “I know! They came rushing out of there like a herd of cattle! I was almost a goner.” She joked back.

The two both laughed as they continued on in the direction of Daisy’s dressing room. A silence fell between them as they walked, smiling and glancing at each other, fondly. Mia began to think she’d been too harsh towards Davis before. After spending the day with him, she was starting to realise he was a pretty nice guy. Sure he was a flirt but why did that really matter? Underneath all that, he was kind and friendly. Maybe working with him wouldn’t be so bad afterall.

When they arrived at Daisy’s door, they each realised that they were still holding hands. They both retracted with an awkward laugh and blush. There was something hanging in the silence between them but neither one could quite pin what it was. Whatever it had been, it shattered the moment the dressing room door swung open. Daisy hung in the doorway, eyeing them both. Each of them instinctively stepped away from each other under the scrutiny of her gaze.

“Well, uh, I’ll be out here. You two have a good interview.” Davis said, nervously rubbing his neck and taking a few more steps backwards.

Mia smiled at him and nodded. This sudden shyness was a stark contrast to the Edmund Davis she was used to, but she found it incredibly adorable.

Daisy again glared between the two of them and cleared her throat, loudly. Mia snapped back to her senses, remembering what she was here for. She nodded again to Davis before following Daisy into the dressing room to start the interview.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn  
> artisanBastardry
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-8 of Gotham Memoirs  
> Duesenberg Model J - https://www.stauer.com/images/stauer/products/32364.jpg https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Duesenberg_Model_J
> 
> Bloomingdale's - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bloomingdale%27s
> 
> 1935 Mercedes-Benz 500K Special Roadster -https://d32c3oe4bky4k6.cloudfront.net/-/media/uscamediasite/images/story-images/2019/02/13/mb_1935_500k_rm_102.ashx?modified=20190213170551 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercedes-Benz_500K
> 
> Belasco Theater - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Belasco_Theatre
> 
> The Group Theater - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Group_Theatre_(New_York_City)
> 
> Clifford Odets - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clifford_Odets
> 
> Awake and Sing! - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Awake_and_Sing!


	7. A Critical Error

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !WARNING! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS CONTENT THAT MAY NOT BE SUITABLE FOR ALL AUDIENCES, READER DISCRETION ADVISED.
> 
> Content warning included due to depictions of: gun violence, public shooting, physical violence, death, explicit language, sex, and nudity.

The two women entered the lavish dressing room together with an air of tension looming between them. Daisy plopped herself down on an intricate, leather chaise lounge and lit up a cigarette. She waved her hand, gesturing for Mia to sit down on the couch across from her, to which she obliged. Mia then pulled out her pocket-sized steno pad from the small handbag she’d brought with her.

“Are you ready to begin, Ms. Collins?” She asked, straightening her posture and readying her pen.

“Let’s get on with this. I got a dinner party I have to leave for in a little less than an hour,” Daisy retorted, unenthusiastically puffing on her cigarette.

Mia noded, “I promise to be quick.” She gave a smile, despite the woman’s attitude, again remembering her promise to the chief. “Why don’t we start with you telling me a bit about your role in the film?”

“I play a young, wealthy lady who falls hopelessly in love with a man who turns out to be a scoundrel.”

“What was your opinion on the role? Do you like the character you play?”

“She’s an intelligent and decisive woman, if a bit naive. But it’s a pity…”

“What is, Ms. Collins?”

“That she was blinded by love. She couldn’t see the true nature of men. I wouldn’t fall into such a miserable state if I were her.”

“That’s an interesting take. I suppose you never know unless you’re truly in her shoes.”

“How do you mean?”

“Well we all like to think of ourselves as strong and smart. As humans it’s in our nature to believe we’ll know what to do in any situation but we often overestimate ourselves. You never really know how you’ll react to something until you’ve lived it.”

Daisy took a second to contemplate this, staring aimlessly at the wall. “I suppose so.” Is all she replied with when she finally spoke. 

“What was your experience like on set for this film?” Mia continued.

“Does it really matter? Every reporter I’ve talked to in the past just asks me about my scandals or my love life cause that's all people seem to care about. Who wants to hear about my work anyway?”

Mia raises her brows at this statement. She never considered how annoying it must be to do interviews as an actress. Of course all these big name reporters cared about was gossip. They probably never ask those kinds of questions to her male co-stars, either. But that's how most men think of women, as gossip filled gabber mouths who just care about drama. So it makes sense that’s all they’d think to ask her about.

“I would, Ms. Collins.” Mia answered, in a kind voice, giving the woman a reassuring smile. “Your acting in the film was so emotional and convincing - it’s clear you put a lot of work into your performance. I’d like to hear about how you prepare for that and what goes through your mind when you're playing a role. I believe there are plenty of aspiring young actresses out there who’d love to hear more about your methods as well.”

Shocked, but flattered, Daisy continued to eye Mia, looking her up and down several times. She eventually cracked a half smile. “I’m starting to see why Edmund’s so fond of you.”

“I-I’m not sure I understand, Ms. Collins.” Mia falters, thrown off by the woman’s words.

“I’ve known Eddie for a long time. He’s always dreamed of being a reporter. To ‘give the world the truth that they deserve’ as he used to say.”

“What's that got to do with me?”

“Oh everything, Ms. Lynch. Because you’re exactly what he’s trying to be: A good reporter.”

A blush rose to Mia’s cheeks. She didn’t even know Miss Collins but her compliment meant the world to her. 

“I appreciate that, Ms. Collins, greatly. Now, since you are short on time, would you mind telling me about your experience on set?”

The interview continued with a much more jovial attitude between the women. Daisy went on to give several details about her approach to acting and her experiences in the industry. Around 30 minutes in, the conversation came to a natural close and it felt like a good place to stop. Mia thanked Daisy again for her kind words, and for accepting the interview in the first place. As she packed up her things and got ready to leave, Daisy stopped her.

“Hey, would you mind sending Edmund in on your way out? I need him for something.”

“Oh, uh, sure. Is it anything I could help you with?”

“No, no. It has to be Edmund,” she replied with a giggle. “But there is something I  _ could  _ use your help with.”

“Yes, Ms. Collins?”

Daisy grabbed up one of the newspapers off the coffee table between their seats to tear off the corner. She then grabbed a pen and jotted down her phone number. “Let me know if Eddie starts getting close to any other women,” she said cooly as she handed Mia the paper. 

Mia accepted it, dumbfounded by her blasé attitude toward such a request. Though she had no intention of calling up Ms. Collins for anything other than business, Mia tucked the piece of paper into her handbag without protest. She was a reporter, not an informant and she had better things to do than keep tabs on Davis’s love life but she remained silent anyway. The rapport she’d built with Daisy during their interview wasn’t something she was eager to squander by making snide remarks. 

The two said final goodbyes as Mia walked out the door, closing it behind her. She scanned the hall for Edmund, finding him sat on a bench ottoman a short ways down. Upon seeing her emerge, he hopped up and made his way over to her.

“How’d it go? She wasn’t too bad was she?” He asked, trying to make it sound like a joke but seeming genuinely nervous.

“It was great! A bit of a rocky start but we got into a groove eventually. Thank you for setting this up for me, by the way. I don’t think I really said that before, and I should have.” Mia said, patting his arm and giving him a genuine smile. Tonight had been the most relaxed that Edmund had ever seen her. It brought a gleeful smile to his face and made his nerves dissipate. “Oh, but she did ask me to send you in after me. Said she had something she wanted your help with.”

His smile dropped a bit at her statement. He nodded and gave a light sigh. “Yeah I… I have a feeling I know what she wants. Wait for me out by the entrance, and I’ll take you home when we’re done. It shouldn’t be too long.”

Mia nodded and watched as he entered Daisy’s dressing room. She then turned and made her way back through the maze-like building to the theater’s entrance. She leaned against the wall a few feet from the double doors and stared up at the sky. The moon was full and beaming down on the streets beautifully. She contemplated reaching into her handbag for a cigarette so she could light up a smoke while she waited but she didn’t get the chance. Just as she was about to fish out her case, the night’s silence erupted in screams. 

People ran frantically out of the theater and around the streets to what sounded like firecrackers. They weren’t firecrackers, of course. Anyone who had heard one fire before would recognize the rhythmic pops as gunshots. Mia stood dazed for a moment, unsure of what to do or where to run. Then her mind flashed back to Davis who was still in the theater. Without a second thought she rushed in the doors. Adrenaline took over her body as she ran through the halls to the backstage entrance, barely aware of her own actions. As her hand rested on the backstage door’s knob she suddenly came back to her senses. The gunshots had gotten quieter the further she’d gone into the building but there was still no way of telling if there were gunmen backstage as well. 

Mia looked around wildly, searching for something to give her an answer to her next course of action. Eventually her eyes landed on an empty, abandoned Bertani bottle laying on the ground. There were several bottles and glasses scattered across the hall’s floors, presumably left there by movie goers who ran out of their theaters when the shooting started. Mia picked up the bottle, turning it over in her hands to hold by the neck. She swung her hand a bit while holding it to get a feel for its weight. She then gripped the backstage door’s knob once again, twisting it slowly in an attempt to be as quiet as possible. 

The shooting was distant and the shots had grown further apart but she still needed to be cautious. As she came upon the bend that led to the dressing rooms, her fears were confirmed. She heard heavy footsteps approaching her slowly and she pressed herself against the wall. She rose the bottle, with a shaky breath, ready to swing. Luckily for Mia, the hallways were lit dimly and when the gunman rounded the corner he didn’t notice her. Once he was a few steps in front of her, Mia swung the bottle with all her strength. It shattered as it connected with the nape of the man’s neck and he yelped in pain. His free hand shot up to grab his head. He lifted the gun with his other hand, looking for where to aim but having a hard time focusing his vision after the impact. When he raised the gun, Mia stabbed the jagged remains of the bottle’s neck down into the man’s wrist. With another shriek, he dropped the gun, grabbing his wrist with his other hand. Quickly, Mia picked up the dropped weapon, thanking her lucky stars it hadn’t accidentally fired when it hit the ground. Once again using all her force, she slammed the butt of the gun into the man’s temple, knocking him to the ground.

He laid there motionless, a pool of blood forming around his head where he fell. Mia’s hands shook from the adrenaline rush as she raised the pistol and fired a shot into each of the man’s knees. She believed he was dead but she wasn’t willing to take any chances. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself before looking down the hallway the man had come from and then back down the one behind her to ensure no one else was coming. She then searched the gun for its safety, flicking it into position once she found it. With the safety on, Mia placed the gun on the ground and kicked it with the side of her foot, sending it sliding a ways down the hall, far out of the man’s reach should he somehow manage to get up.

Remembering where the assailant had just come from, a pit formed in Mia’s stomach as fear washed over her. That fear drove her quickly down the rest of the hall to Daisy’s dressing room, praying to herself that she’d find them alive. Once outside the door she heard something she didn’t expect: moaning. Several waves of emotion crashed over her in quick succession. Unable to process the noise or her feelings, Mia threw the door open. Her hands balled up into shaky fists and her body overflowed with rage as she took in the sight before her. 

Davis was leaning over the chaise lounge, one knee resting upon it while his other leg was outstretched, his foot planted on the floor. He supported himself with his hand pressed against the chair’s arm. His other hand gripping the hip of Daisy Collins who laid under him. Her head was propped up on the arm next to Davis’s hand and her arms were wrapped loosely around his neck. Davis’s hair was messily ruffled up and his open belt hung from the loops, dangling against his outstretched leg. The gap between his legs gave the perfect view of Daisy’s pushed up dress and it was clear he was deep inside her. 

When the door slammed open, the two both whipped their heads around, staring at Mia like deer in headlights. After a second of processing, Edmund quickly got up, and faced Mia as he backed away from Daisy who sat up on the chaise lounge. Realising he’d just exposed himself to her, Edmund turned away and quickly stuffed his member back into his trousers. Daisy followed suit and adjusted her dress, covering her exposed breast and pulling up her underwear, which had been dangling from her ankle, before covering that as well. The three all stared at each other in stunned silence for a moment. 

Mia’s mouth opened and closed rapidly like she was stuttering out something but no noise came. She eventually recovered from the shock and turned to shut and lock the door behind her. Her entire body was tense and blushed. All three of them were blushed but for different reasons. Edmund and Daisy were red from a mixture of lingering passion and sudden embarrassment. Mia was red with fury. She stayed facing the door for a moment after closing it, breathing heavily and gripping the knob so tightly it was surprising that it didn’t burst.

Davis was the first to speak, “It-it’s not what it looks-”

He was cut off when Mia spun back around, her eyes glowing with anger. “Are you fucking  _ insane _ ?” she hissed in a surprisingly hushed voice. “Do you. Have any. Idea  _ WHAT IS GOING ON OUT THERE?! _ ” She continued, her volume gradually increasing as her rage grew. 

The two stared at her, dumbfounded and silent. Mia shook her head, her mouth hanging open in utter disbelief. “There. Are GUNMEN out there, SHOOTING UP THE FUCKING THEATER!! AND YOU’RE IN HERE GETTING YOUR ROCKS OFF?!” 

Her glare shot daggers into each of them as her eyes flashed back and forth between them. They both shrunk under her gaze, the realization of what she just said slowly overcoming them. Daisy hugged herself, rocking back and forth with tears welling up in her eyes, as the reality of what the noise they had been faintly hearing had actually been took its hold on her. She began to mumble “Oh my god,” over and over again as the tears rolled down her face.

When Davis processed Mia’s words, worry struck his face and he stepped towards her. He took her arms in his hands and asked if she was okay. She pushed him off of her and smacked him against the cheek with all her might. He stumbled backwards, nearly falling over as his vision briefly faded in and out.

“Don’t you  _ DARE _ put your hands on me! You think you get to pretend like you care about me?  _ Fuck you! _ You have _ no idea _ what I just went through to get to you! I risked  **_my life_ ** to make sure you were okay, that's how worried I was about you! I could have  **_died_ ** Davis! And I find you here knocking boots without a care in the world?! I wouldn’t even have been here tonight if it weren’t for YOU!” She picked up a vase of flowers from the table next to the door and threw it at him.

He quickly put his hands up and stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding the impact. He just stood there, his face covered in guilt. He searched his mind desperately for the right words but he came up empty handed. During the commotion the three hadn’t noticed the several sets of approaching footsteps and so when the door handle began to jiggle, they all jumped out of their skins. There was violent knocking on the door as the handle continued to shake and a man’s voice called Daisy’s name. 

Tears still streaming down her face, Daisy got up and rushed to the door, unlocking it. On the other side was her manager, her assistant, and a few other members of her team. They informed the trio that the shooting had stopped and they needed to leave immediately. Daisy was then ushered away by her manager and other team members as they took her in the direction of the back exit. Her assistant stayed behind to quickly collect Daisy’s things before dashing off to catch up with them. 

Mia closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths to collect herself. She then walked off in the opposite direction, heading back for the front entrance. She had dropped her purse when she rushed inside and she was hoping that no one took it. Davis tailed her the entire way, begging her to slow down and wait for him to catch up. He stopped for a moment in shock and horror when they reached the hallway where the gunman still laid dead on the ground. Noticing Mia hadn’t stopped and was continuing to get further away from him, Davis had no time to process the scene he’d just witnessed. He jogged down the halls to get back to Mia, finally catching up with her at the double doors.

Mia surveyed the ground in search of her purse. She sighed a breath of relief when she found it next to the wall she’d been leaning against before everything had kicked off. Davis stood behind her, still unable to figure out what he should say. Mia refused to even acknowledge him. She kept looking straight ahead as she walked down the street in search of a phonebooth. Davis, again, tailed her. 

He finally spoke up, calling out to her, “You’re not- you’re not just gonna walk home are you? At least let me-” 

He was cut off when Mia found what she was looking for. She entered the booth and slammed the door behind her, still ignoring Davis. She dialed the number for Mama May’s Taxi Service and requested they come take her home. Mrs. May, the woman who owned the business and answered the phones, could hear the shakiness in Mia’s voice. She asked if Mia was okay and she assured the woman that she was alright. The older woman didn’t entirely believe her and insisted Mia stay on the line until the cab arrived, promising to comp her ride to make up for the cost of the call. Feeling calmed by the woman’s voice, Mia agreed to this.

Davis stood outside of the booth with his hand on the glass for a good while. He didn’t want to leave her there but it was clear she had no intention of even looking at him, let alone speaking to him. So, after about 10 minutes of waiting, he sulked back to his car, often turning to look back at Mia as he walked. He was filled with more guilt than his body could handle and he felt his hands begin to shake from the raw emotion. He stuffed his hands in his pockets in an attempt to ignore their trembles. Unsure of how he was ever going to face her again, Davis got into his car and drove home. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like you all should know that the working title for this chapter was "Davis's Dick Betrays Him." 
> 
> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn  
> artisanBastardry
> 
> References:  
> Stage 1-9 of Gotham Memoirs
> 
> Bertani Wine - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Villa_Mosconi_Bertani
> 
> Basic Gun Saftey - https://www.nssf.org/safety/rules-firearms-safety/#:~:text=Always%20Keep%20the%20Muzzle%20Pointed,be%20virtually%20no%20firearms%20accidents.&text=Never%20point%20your%20gun%20at%20anything%20you%20do%20not%20intend%20to%20shoot.
> 
> Staying Safe In An Active Shooter Situation - https://www.ready.gov/active-shooter


	8. Picking Up the Pieces

Mia confided in Mrs. May about the shooting at the theater, assuring the woman that she was safe and unharmed, just a bit shaken up. She made a point _not_ to mention the dressing room fiasco. Instead she brought up the new project Mr. Kane had given her. They went on chatting about the paper until her cab arrived. Talking with Mrs. May had extinguished any anger left in Mia. The woman’s soothing voice had snuffed out any embers left by her rage.

The driver who arrived for her was a young black man named Daniel - Mia knew him as Mrs. May’s son. He was the driver she sent when giving free rides. Daniel was always kind and very polite. So much so that he’d often get out and open the car door for her. Mia stayed silent the entire ride home, aimlessly staring out the window. Daniel had to get her attention when they had arrived - she was so out of it that she hadn’t even noticed. 

“You get some good rest tonight, Miss Amelia. You seem like you need it.” Daniel said to her as she got out.

“I will, Daniel. Give my thanks to your mother for me,” she responded with a weak smile.

“Yes, ma’am. I will.” He nodded to her before driving away.

Though her anger had subsided, she was left feeling hollow. She no longer felt present in her own body. The trip up to her room felt like it was made by someone else. She got undressed, took down her hair and cleaned off her face all in stupor. She wiped the rouge from her cheeks while staring blankly at her reflection, barely able to recognize it as her own. When she finished, she remained in her desk chair for several minutes unable to decipher how she felt - or if she even felt anything at all.

The unrest eventually crept in on her and she felt her heart start to beat faster. It suddenly felt harder to breathe. She lifted her hands from where they were resting on her desk. They felt heavy and foreign. She stared at them as they trembled and unease began to weigh down her chest. She frantically searched her desk drawers for a pack of cigarettes. As her nerves wound tighter and tighter, things became harder for her to grasp. When she finally found her stash of Camels, she was unable to maintain her grip and the box fell to the floor, spilling its contents as it landed. It wasn’t a big deal - they weren’t ruined. She could easily pick them back up. Yet, as she stared at the cigarettes littering the floor by her feet, Mia felt tears begin to fall from her eyes and within seconds she was sobbing.

She got up and paced the room as she cried, her entire body now trembling. This wasn’t the first time she’d experienced something like this. She’d had these “nervous fits” ever since she was young. But they were worse now. She no longer had someone to talk her down. There was no warm embrace to run into, no comforting promise that it would all be okay. She was alone.

\---

Mia woke up to the sound of her own screaming. As she sat up from her spot on the concrete floor, she couldn't remember even falling asleep. She had been lying next to her bed and her back was damp with sweat. The room was dimly lit by moonlight peeking in from between her half-drawn curtains. She stood up and rubbed her eyes to get a better look at the clock, it was just midnight. After taking a moment to stretch, she closed the curtains the rest of the way and climbed into bed.

Her nightmares shook her awake again, a few hours later. This time she made no effort to go back to bed. It was clear her mind had no interest in staying asleep. Instead, she turned on her desk lamp and got to work picking up her spilled cigarettes. When she was done she planted herself in her desk chair and lit one up. She drew the smoke deep into her lungs, instantly feeling it mitigate her frayed nerves. She didn’t bother to open the window as she normally did when smoking indoors. She chose to stay put and lazily exhale into the room, watching the cloud slowly dissipate. After a few good puffs, she pulled out her steno pad and flipped to her notes from the previous night. She spent the remaining hours of the early morning writing up the Daisy Collins interview. 

She left for work at her normal time, calling Mama May’s once more for her morning pick up. When she arrived, Mia looked over her article again, spending about an hour on final edits before taking it to Mr. Kane for approval. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her disheveled form in his doorway. She failed to even register his reaction, continuing in to hand him the paper.

“My _God_ , Lynch, you look like you’ve been hit by a bus! What the hell happened?” he questioned with genuine concern.

Mia gave him the same story she’d told to Mrs. May the night before: There’d been a shooting at the theater after the interview- she was a bit frazzled by it but was otherwise fine.

“I’d say it was more than ‘a bit’ by the looks of you. Did you get _any_ sleep last night?”

“A few hours.” Her voice was raspy and hollow. She tried to reassure him with a smile but it was weak and unconvincing.

Kane shook his head as he looked at her wrinkled clothes, the messy bun in her hair and the circles under her eyes. “You should go home, Lynch. You need to rest.”

Mia furrowed her brow, swatting the idea away with her hand, “I already got all the sleep I could manage. If I go home I’ll just be wasting my time laying in bed. I have to get to work preparing for the interview with Ms. Harris.”

Mia left the room before he could respond, completely forgetting about the article she’d just handed to him. White met up with her as she sat back at her desk. He seemed just as shocked by her appearance as Kane had been.

"Are you feeling alright, Mia? You don't look so good…" he was gentle with his words, wanting to express his concern without offending her.

"I'm okay, really. I just had a rough night," she assured him.

"Did something happen?"

Mia knew his probing was well intentioned but the last thing she wanted to think about was what had happened the night before. She'd ready dwelled on it enough today, she just wanted to get back to work. "I don't really feel like talking about it right now, Nate. I'm too tired to get into it and I have to focus on outlining the Charlotte Harris interview." He seemed unsure but she continued before he could press further, "Speaking of which, could you run over to records for me and pull any articles mentioning her? It'd be a big help."

Reluctantly, he agreed, leaving in the direction of the records room. He returned a short while later with arms full of papers. Mia stood to meet him, reaching out to help him set the stack down on her desk. She sat back down and began to look through them. Noticing White's hesitation, she assured him again that she'd be fine. With the promise that she wouldn't come in tomorrow if she didn't feel better by then, White was finally appeased. As he turned to leave she brought her attention back to the mountain of material in front of her.

When Davis arrived, it was just past noon. Mia had been so engrossed in her research that she didn’t see him walk in. She honestly wouldn’t have cared if he hadn't shown up today at all. Yet, for Davis, she was his only motivation for coming in. He _had_ to see her. But when he finally did, his heart ached. Her frail and haggard appearance was yet another slap in the face. The thought made him rub at the red mark on his cheek. Remembering the sting of her angry, but justified, strike, he decided it was a pretty good description for how this felt.

Mia only noticed Davis when Kane summoned him into the office. She assumed it was to ask him what else had happened last night. Staring at the closed office door, she wondered how much Davis would tell him. _Probably not much,_ she decided. When the door handle started to turn she snapped her attention back down to the papers littering her desk. She felt Davis’s gaze linger on her the rest of the day but she avoided meeting it.

When closing time came Mia was quick to pack her things. She had a feeling that Davis was going to want to talk about the previous night but she had nothing to say to him. She was able to rush out ahead of everyone else and call for her ride home. By the time she made it back to the bench she usually waited on, Davis had made his way past their swarm of co-workers and was standing beside it. She looked at him head on for the first time that day. He was much more put together in his appearance then she was. His clothes were clean and freshly pressed. His hair was still neatly combed back and his face looked freshly shaved. But his convincing facade was broken by the dark circles that hung under his eyes. There was no indication of his normal, cheery demeanor. He looked sad, like a kicked puppy. 

_Good,_ she thought as she sat down, _He deserves to feel shitty. He did this to himself._ Mia reached into her bag for her cigarette case. She felt her nerves winding up like they had last night and she hoped the nicotine would satiate them. She took a few good drags before pulling a book out from her bag to read while she waited. As she opened it up she could hear Davis shuffle his feet beside her. In response, she swung her legs up onto the bench, turning her back to him so that she was taking up the entire seat and facing the sidewalk instead of the road. 

“Hey, um… about last night...” he nervously began. His voice was quiet and weak, and so unlike him…

Still, she didn’t turn around, nor did she speak. She continued to read, raising her hand and waving him away, hoping he’d get the message. Surprisingly, he did. Though he lingered behind her for a while, he made no more effort to talk to her. Eventually, she heard the sound of his oxfords clacking on the pavement as he walked away. A few moments later, she heard his car roar to life and speed off down the street.

\---

Mia arrived at the office the next day looking much more like herself. Her dark circles were mostly gone, her clothes were on straight, and her hair was neatly tamed. She'd had another nightmare early in the night but was able to sleep uninterrupted after that. She'd been smoking a lot more often since Monday night. The pack she’d spilled before was brand new and would normally have lasted several days but she’d already burned through it. She bought a replacement from a street vendor that morning while waiting for her cab. To avoid smelling like an ashtray, she dabbed on a bit more perfume than she usually wore before heading out.

When Mia walked out of the stairwell and onto her floor, she immediately noticed something sitting on her desk. As she approached, she got a better look at what it was - a bouquet of white lilies tied together by a red ribbon with a card propped up on the stems. Realizing what they were, she backed up from her desk and covered her nose with her hand. She looked around for White, calling him over once she spotted him.

"Whats up Mia?" White asked as he trotted up to her.

"Can you get rid of those please?" she asked, pointing to her desk, "You can keep them if you want I just need them away from me."

White walked over to the desk and picked up the flowers. He gave her a quizzical look. "These are really nice, Mia, why do you wanna get rid of em?"

" _I'm allergic_ ," she said, raising her voice a bit as she again covered her nose with her hand. 

A loud thud drew their attention along with a few other people in the room. Upon hearing her statement, Davis had slammed his forehead down against his desk. In response to their stares he brought his arms up around his head to bury his face. Mia rolled her eyes, his reaction confirming for her that he was the sender.

White turned back to look at Mia, "I'll get these out of your way then." He said with a half smile, before backing away from her, making sure to keep a good distance as he headed for the stairwell.

Once he was gone, Mia approached her desk and pulled up the collar of her sweater, to hold over her nose. She plucked a tissue from the box on her desk and wiped down the area the flowers had been lying to ensure no pollen was left behind. She tossed the tissue in the bin by her desk and sat down. As she pulled her shirt off of her nose and tucked it back into her skirt, she noticed the card still sat on the desk. She glanced back over at Davis to see him peeking at her from over his crossed arms. She threw the card in the trash, not bothering to open it.

A few hours later, she noticed him fiddling with something on his desk. When he held it up to inspect, she was able to get a better view. It was a paper airplane. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. _I swear to God if he throws that at me-_ Before she even finished her thought, the carefully folded plane landed perfectly on her desk. She was annoyed albeit slightly impressed by his aim. Not bothering to look over at him, she crumpled it up and threw it in the waste bin. 

During her lunch break, she noticed Davis staring at her again. _Does he not have anything better to do?_ She shook her head in annoyance, turning her attention back to her book. A few minutes before the end of lunch, she got up to use the restroom. Taking advantage of her absence, Davis walked over to her desk. He'd been trying to see what book she was reading but his view was obstructed by her lunch box.

It was a copy of _Poems of Emily Dickinson_ published by Little, Brown, and Company. The copy was in very poor condition, having a stained cover, several ripped pages, and cracking on the spine. Davis opened the cover to see a stamp indicating it was borrowed from a library in Queens. He recalled there being one not too far from her apartment building. Upon further inspection he noticed that nearly every name on the book's punch card was Mia's. He figured she must be pretty fond of it if she were willing to borrow such a haggard copy so many times. An idea popped into his head and he set the book back down on her desk. As Mia returned from the restroom she saw Davis heading out the door.

\---

The next morning, Mia noticed Davis sneaking more glances at her as she walked in. He seemed excited and that worried her. When she sat down at her desk she discovered another gift waiting there. It was a small, square item, poorly wrapped in green wrapping paper. A folded piece of paper with her name written on it was tied to the gift with a gold ribbon. She stared at it for a few moments, wondering what it could be. _It's probably just some ridiculously expensive, gaudy piece of jewelry._ With that thought she tossed the bundle into the metal waste bin beside her. It landed with an unexpected thud. _That didn’t_ **_sound_ ** _like jewelry._ She shook away the thought. It didn’t matter what the gift was, she couldn’t be bribed. He'd already proven that she didn't matter to him, he was just trying to buy her back in an attempt to save face.

Davis intently watched as she picked up the gift. He didn't realize he was holding his breath until he saw her dump it in the trash. He let out a dejected sigh, his whole body slumping down in his seat. Perhaps she just wasn't the forgiving type. Feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt wash over him, Davis decided he couldn't handle being in the same room as her anymore. Seeing her disdain made him nauseous and he needed to escape. Grabbing the keys off his desk, he went to leave. A part of him still hoped she'd stop him. Maybe she'd watch him go and feel pity. Even a glance would satisfy him now. But she gave him nothing, her gaze remained fixed on her work. It seemed like in her mind, he’d ceased to exist. And in that moment, he wished he could.

Davis was gone for the entire day after that. Mia half expected him to return at lunch but he didn't. She wondered how he got away with his behavior this week. He was a reporter just like her, wasn't he? Why was Mr. Kane not reprimanding him for his constant absence and lack of focus? _Because he's rich,_ she answered herself, _money buys you out of consequences._ With that thought she looked back down at the gift in her waste bin. That odd sound piqued her interest now that Davis was gone. But she had to stay firm, her forgiveness wasn't for sale. No amount of fancy flowers or expensive jewels would buy back her favor.

Yet, that sound was _different_ and she couldn't shake the curiosity she felt. She could hear her name being called by the item in her trash can. It didn't matter what it was, right? So why did she want to know? Its contents wouldn't change anything, but it just kept _eating_ at her. Its demand for attention only grew louder as the office emptied out. With no witnesses left to see her give in, it became impossible to resist the temptation.

It was too much - she needed to know. After fishing the item back out of the trash she placed it on her desk. The wrapping job was shoddy at best - the corners were loose and the paper was wrinkled. _He’s probably never had to wrap something himself before._ That made her wonder why he hand wrapped it in the first place when most luxury stores offer gift wrapping services. She brushed off that thought and pulled at the weakly tied ribbon, setting aside the note. She delicately turned over the gift in her hands, peeling up the tape to unveil the item inside. It was not what she’d expected _at all._

It was a pristine, hardcover, first edition copy of _Poems of Emily Dickinson._ She stared at it for a moment, completely awestruck. She pulled out the library’s copy from her bag to compare. She wasn’t mistaken, it was definitely the same book, just in _much_ better condition. It wasn’t a rare or special book on its own, by any means, but a first edition copy of anything in such good shape wouldn’t be cheap. She delicately flipped through the pages, handling them as if they were made of glass. The woman’s work had only started to gain popularity around the turn of the century. Nowadays, more and more books were published compiling her work. Mia was grateful for this. Dickinson had been her favorite poet since she was a little girl, and books like this made it much easier to find the poems she loved whenever she wanted to read or reference them.

Mia was blown away by this, it wasn’t at all what she had expected. A knot formed in her stomach as she realized how close she’d come to leaving it for the garbagemen. She held the book close to her, as if setting it down would make it disappear. Her attention was caught by the folded paper note that sat on her desk amongst the discarded wrapping paper. Moments ago she had no interest in reading it, but now she felt compelled to. She took the paper in her hand and stared at the writing on the folded cover. His handwriting was surprisingly gentle and delicate, a beautiful mix between cursive and print. She only knew one other man to write like that - she considered it a sign of a loving soul. Applying that idea to Davis made her feel confused and conflicted. Still, she hooked her thumb under the paper’s fold, flipped it open, and began to read.

_Dear Amelia,_

_I know you haven’t wanted to talk to me since Monday night, and I completely understand why. I don’t blame you, if I were in your shoes I imagine I’d feel the same. But I want you to know that I regret my actions with all of my being. There's nothing I want more than to take them back. Seeing the anger and betrayal in your eyes and knowing that I caused it has been the hardest pill to swallow. Your words have stayed constant in my mind. I know it doesn’t seem this way after my actions and my carelessness - I’m so sorry about the lilies - but my concern for you was_ _never_ _an act. I care about you, Amelia, I truly do and I am so sorry for making you doubt that. I understand if you can’t forgive me, but please know that if you ever need anything, I will always be here for you,_ _no matter what_ _._

 _~~Your hopeful friend,~~ _ _E. Davis_

When she finished reading, Mia lowered the note back down onto her desk. She sat there for a moment, clutching the book to her chest. She felt her eyes begin to betray her as they started to well up with tears. Grabbing a tissue she dabbed at the corners of her eyes before they could overflow. She then took a deep breath in an effort to compose herself. Though the office was still empty, she suddenly felt extremely vulnerable. It was time to go. She packed up her things and cleared off her desk with urgency, feeling she might suffocate if she didn’t get out fast enough. As she rushed through the front entrance, she brushed past Davis. She wondered why he was just now returning to the office but didn’t stop to question it.

Davis was taken aback when she bumped his shoulder in her haste. He turned to watch her scurry across the road to the phonebooth. He thought he’d caught a glimpse of something _familiar_ in her arms, but shook his head, deciding he was just seeing things. Having intended to head up to his furtive office on the building’s closed-off, third floor, something compelled him to first stop at his public desk on the second. Not knowing his exact reason for being there, he collected a few things from his desk in an attempt to give the detour a purpose. When he stood up to leave he noticed what his heart must have been leading him to see: his gift to Mia was no longer in the small, tin waste basket by her desk. For closer inspection, he walked over to it and peered down at it’s contents. The wrapping paper was crumpled up inside but there was no sign of the book or his note. 

He felt his heart skip a beat as he realized his eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on him earlier. The item Davis noticed her clutching so tightly _had_ been his gift. His face burst into a bright wide smile. He relaxed the tension in his shoulders, and ran his fingers through his hair, letting out a small laugh of relief as he did so. It might take some time before things were back to normal between them - if that was even possible, he was still unsure - but this gave him hope. There was still a _chance_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editors:  
> RoselessThorn  
> artisanBastardry
> 
> References:  
> Poems of Emily Dickinson (1924) - https://g.co/kgs/TJcNkG


End file.
